From Paris With Love
by Hidden Treasures
Summary: Gil Grissom returns to Las Vegas after receiving terrifying news concerning his wife. GSR.
1. Chapter 1

**From Paris With Love:  
****  
Chapter 1:**

**Disclamer**: I own nothing...I just like playing with the cast members.

**Spoilers**: Anything that has aired in the US is fair game.

**Summary**: There are three things in life that Sara Sidle is familiar with: the dark, soreness, and being victimized.

**A/N**: This is rated as a strong T for now...rating may change, depending how descriptive I'm willing to get. I hope you like this...it's my first try at a CSI fanfiction piece. Review to let me know what you thought.

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There were several things in life that Sara Sidle was familiar with. The first was the dark: hell, she had worked night shift for most of her adult life. For almost ten years she chased criminals under the cover of the stars and the flashing neon lights of Las Vegas. The night was often more of a comfort to her than the broad daylight. So she was usually never uneasy about awaking in a dark room.

The second thing that Sara was used to was the aching between her legs, near her womanly areas. Since her relationship began with Gil Grissom, she had grown accustomed to the aftermaths of sexual pleasures. However, since she had not seen her husband and lover in months, the feeling was rather uncomfortable, especially since he was, supposedly, still in Paris.

The third, and most unfortunate, situation Sara was familiar with was being victimized and awaking in an unfamiliar place. However, this time, she was not crushed under a red mustang after being tasered and drugged by a psychopathic serial killer. No, this time, Sara Sidle could not remember a thing.

She opened her gentle brown eyes and gave a start as she looked around. The walls were a faded yellow with nothing hanging from them. The bed was lumpy and small with scratchy sheets that reeked of stale alcohol and cigarette smoke. Stains covered the thinning off-white carpet; and a rather large rust-colored stain in the middle of the room looked frighteningly like blood. There was a faint light coming from the adjacent room – the bathroom, from what Sara could gather.

This was not her room. Her heart began to thrum rapidly and unevenly in her chest as she slowly began to sit up. A sharp pain in her ribs halted her motions. Gasping at the discomfort, she fell back onto the mattress as she tried to assess her situation. She slowly moved the rest of her body: although she was very sore, nothing other than her ribs seemed to be broken. She she was grateful to see that her rings – both wedding and engagement – were still resting on the fourth finger of her left hand.

She could feel the bruises forming all over her body, and her cheek felt extremely tender. When she brushed her fingers over the skin, she felt a warm stick substance stick to her fingers and a stinging sensation shot through her cheek. Blood.

Her southern parts were throbbing furiously and Sara hissed as a burning sensation ripped through her core as she shifted her legs. Fear snarled her thoughts as she considered the possibility that she was raped. All of her clothes were still on, though, but messily so. Her jeans were not resting comfortably on her hips, nor were they straightly aligned. She could feel that a strap of her bra was twisted and cutting into her skin. Her blouse was the only thing laying properly with the proper amount of buttons fastened. Her jacket was laying next to her. She huffed out a breath in frustration and began to prop herself up on her elbows.

"Damn it!" she cried out as she, again, failed to sit up.

Instead of trying to sit straight up, she wriggled her hips – biting her lip against the agonizing fire and stabbing pain between her thighs – until she was half-sitting, half-laying against the rough pillows. Breathing heavily, she looked around her for her purse, not fully expecting to find it. However, when her eyes landed on the brown faux-leather bag, she was filled with surprise. She reached out and grabbed the purse and pulled it towards her. She rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for: Advil. Shaking out two small brown pills, she popped then in her mouth before swallowing them, dry. Her mouth and throat were dry, so the painkillers went down difficultly, but they eventually scratched down her throat.

While waiting for the pills to take effect, Sara looked through her purse to see if anything was missing. Nothing was: she still had her keys, her phone, her driver's license, her CSI ID badge, and other miscellaneous artifacts. Relieved, albeit confused, Sara set the purse on the bed before, again, attempting to get off the bed.

Sara managed to scoot slowly off of the mattress and stood on shaky legs. The throbbing pain was becoming bearable, most likely because she was slowly getting accustomed to it. But after awhile, she felt a moistness between her legs. It took her a moment to force herself to look down, but when she did, a sob escaped her lips. Blood was darkening the fabric of her jeans, confirming her fears. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to blink away the tears she felt prickling in her eyes.

While keeping her eyes shut, she strained her ears to hear anything.

She heard the humming of a heating unit, the gurgle of water in pipes, and the creaking of the house. But nothing to suggest that somebody else was here with her. She slowly began to walk towards the door. The house was small, having only one floor and a miniscule basement, so her walkthrough did not take much time. But with her assumed broken ribs, Sara had to tread lightly as to not jostle the bones.

After meandering through the strange house, Sara was convinced that she was alone. She made her way back to the bedroom and to the window. She looked out into the darkness to try and gather her bearings. Trees were all she could see. No flashing neon lights, no roads, other than the long stone lane, and no cars. Sara rested her forehead on the cool window pane as she tried to organize her scrambled thoughts.

"What the hell happened?" she mumbled to herself.

She remembered leaving the lab with Ray and Greg. They were going to grab a quick drink at a bar before heading home. Everyone had had a tough time with their most recent case: a serial killer who had kidnapped little children before slicing them into diminutive pieces. The nightmares were still in the forefronts of their minds, and a beer or two sounded heavenly to the three. Sara remembered following them to the bar in her car and walking with them, side by side, into the building. She remembered she had drunk too much and was convincing Greg and Ray that she was going to call a cab to come and get her. They had offered to drive her home, but since she lived on the opposite side of town, she sweet-talked them into just taking off. She'd be fine.

After watching Langston and Greg drive away, her memory began to grow fuzzy and blurred. She didn't know if she had ever gotten home, or if she had even climbed into a cab. Her immediate assumption was that somebody had slipped something into her drink.

Sara's breathing grew ragged and her heart began to race again. Her hands shook as fresh tears welled in her eyes. The drug was probably still in her system, so she could get the answers to her questions. She could call 911 and go to the hospital to get a rape kit done. Then maybe she would get her justice. But did she really want to know what happened?

She looked down at her arms and saw hand-shaped red marks on her forearms and biceps. They would surely turn to bruises in a day or two. She suddenly felt the large hands that belonged to a stranger groping her skin. She chafed her arms, praying that the feeling would go away. It didn't. She felt a ghost's hands and lips exploring her body. She felt the violence.

Sara scraped her nails along her arms and neck, trying to force the invisible hands away. They wouldn't stop. Sara grabbed her purse before walking to the bathroom. She peered into the mirror and saw that her cheek was raw and scraped open. From what, Sara had no clue. Bruises were rising on her skin, and there was suck marks on her neck, made from a stranger's mouth. Though she knew she would regret it later, she turned on the hot water. Sara stripped off her clothes and put them in a plastic trash bag she found in the cupboard under the sink. She locked the door as steam permeated the air.

She found smaller plastic bags under the sink, along with Q-tips and tissues. Deciding to do what she could before washing the evidence away, Sara began to process herself. She flashed back four years ago to when Catherine was in the same situation, collecting her own rape kit, before she had called Sara. Only now could she fully understand how hard that must have been for Catherine. Sara clenched her eyes shut as she tried to think about anything but what she was doing.

Before long, Sara had the necessary swabs and samples to give to Catherine. She zip-locked them into plastic baggies and shoved them in with the clothes before turning to the shower. Steam was rolling through the room, and Goosebumps formed on Sara's arms as the water vapor condensed on her skin. She stepped into the scorching spray and her pale skin turned bright red. She stood under the hot water as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Sobs openly ripped up her throat and she wrapped her arms around her thin torso as it shook with the cries.

Several minutes later, when the tears ceased, she grabbed the washcloth and ran it over ever skin surface, every pore. She then ran soap over her body before rinsing and scrubbing again. She still felt unclean, and she still felt the rough hands clutching at her. Her skin was raw and red and stinging.

She washed her hair thoroughly, and then resumed scrubbing her body. She only stopped cleansing herself when she heard her cell phone ring. She shut off the water, wrapped a towel around her body, and quickly retrieved the small, silver device. Sara glanced at the screen: _Catherine Willows_ flashed in white against the dark background.

Sara took a deep breath before answering the phone.

"Sara," she whispered, willing her voice to sound strong.

"Sara, where the hell are you?" the blonde demanded. "Shift started forty minutes ago. And why didn't you answer my other calls?"

Confused, Sara took the phone away from her ear to look at the time. With a start, she calculated that she had been showering for an hour. Catherine's distant voice compelled Sara to lift the phone back to her ear.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Cath, I–"

She was unable to finish the sentence. Sara's breath caught in her throat and a barely audible squeak issued from her mouth. She tried to force her vocal cords to work, but a sob was stuck in her throat and no sound came out. On the other line, Catherine instantly knew something was wrong.

"Are you okay?" When she received no reply, she softly asked, "Sara, where are you?"

Sara forced the blockage out of her throat. The tears were stinging her eyes and her voice quivered as she replied, "I–I don't know."

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**A/N 2**: I hope it wasn't too cliché or too dreadful. And let me know please if the rating of this needs to be upped to M, I was toying between T and M. And please review to let me know your thoughts. Have a great day, I'll try and update within a few days.


	2. Chapter 2

**From Paris With Love:**

**Chapter 2:**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing...I just like playing with the cast members.

**Spoilers**: Anything that has aired in the US is fair game.

**Summary**: There are three things in life that Sara Sidle is familiar with: the dark, soreness, and being kidnapped.

**A/N**: A huge thank you goes out to everyone who read my last chapter! I hope this one doesn't disappoint.

* * *

Catherine meandered around the lab, looking for the final member of her team. It was extremely rare for anybody from night shift to be late, but when Sara Sidle was late, the occurrence should be highlighted on national news.

The strawberry blonde knew that the latest case had been tough on her, but it was stressful on everyone else as well. She was sure that the entire team had had a few stiff drinks after shift last night; she certainly had. Catherine also knew that Sara, along with Langston and Greg, had gone out together to a bar. She had even been invited. But Detective Vartann asked her to spend the evening with him. Lou was her obvious choice.

But she trusted her team to arrive on time to work the next day. Ray, Greg, and Nick were already in the break room, waiting for the two women so they could work on paperwork for the case they had just wrapped up. The only problem was: Sara was nowhere to be found. The brunette hadn't answered Catherine's first call, but that was twenty minutes ago. She decided to try again.

The phone rang for awhile, and Catherine was almost ready to hang up when Sara's voice came across the line. Catherine was too irritated to hear the pain and emotion in Sara's whimpered answer. Catherine reprimanded her coworker and told her that she needed to be more responsible and tell Catherine when she was running late.

A rustling on the other end stopped Catherine mid-sentence.

"Are you even listening to me?" the blonde asked forcefully, her irritation climbing quickly.

She waited impatiently for a reply.

"Cath, I–" Sara broke off.

She heard the younger woman struggle to speak, struggle to breathe. When she heard Sara whimper softly and involuntarily, every nerve tingled throughout Catherine's body and her heart gave an uncomfortable lurch. Her intuition flared as she listened to Sara's labored breathing, knowing deep down that something was very wrong.

"Are you okay?" Catherine asked, worriedly.

Time seemed to drag slowly by as she waited anxiously for her friend to answer her question. When she heard nothing but a sort of strangled cry, she lowered her voice and soothingly asked, "Sara, where are you?"

She waited for the reply. Again, it seemed to take forever. When she heard Sara respond in a broken voice that she didn't know, Catherine's heart pounded forcefully in her chest and she froze, midstride. A million different scenarios flashed through her head of what could have possibly happened, and each situation was bleak.

"What do you mean you don't know? Sara, what happened?" Catherine demanded as she resumed walking, swiftly and purposefully, towards Archie's lab area.

"I–I don't know what happened," Sara whispered into the phone.

She could hear the tears wavering the brunette's voice. Catherine could picture Sara very vividly in her mind: she saw the younger woman standing with an arm wrapped protectively around her abdomen; she saw Sara's jaw straining against the tears; she saw Sara's brown eyes harden as she tried to stay strong; she saw her friend's lips quiver slightly as she tried to speak. Catherine was jerked back to the present situation when Sara murmured, "I woke up alone...and, I just – I don't know what happened. I can't remember."

Catherine's heart felt too heavy in her chest when Sara's voice broke on the last word. She quickened her pace as she made her way through the labyrinth of halls.

Archie was sitting in his lab, loud music blasting from the earbuds shoved within his ears. He was scrolling through something on his computer as well, so he did not notice that Catherine was waving her hand at him. Rolling her eyes, she stalked towards him and ripped the cord out of his ear.

"Hey, what the–?"

"Trace this call," Catherine mouthed.

Although confused, Archie did as he was told. Catherine talked quietly to Sara, trying to calm the woman whom she knew was on the verge of a breakdown. After a few minutes, Archie had Sara's location and showed it to his supervisor.

"Okay, okay, Sara," Catherine said soothingly, "I have your location. We're on our way to get you. We should be there soon. Do you need anything? Are you okay?

Although Catherine couldn't see it, Sara shook her head – she still felt violated and unclean. Catherine waited patiently for Sara to speak while she hustled to the break room. The guys were already starting on the paperwork and looked up when Catherine entered. She quietly beckoned for them to follow her. She showed them the address of where they were headed, but she did not say that Sara was the victim who needed their help.

"Hey, Catherine, can you bring me new clothes?" Sara quietly requested. "My locker should have what I need."

"Sure, Sara, I'll bring you some new clothes," Catherine replied, veering away from the exit and towards the locker room. She motioned for the guys to keep going to the car. "What happened to your old clothes."

She wasn't able to bring herself to tell Catherine what happened. Sara figured that the blonde would know in a little while anyway, when she arrived and found Sara naked on the bathroom floor with bruises peppering her skin, with the hickeys marring her neck from an unknown source.

"Cath, please don't bring the guys," Sara pleaded. "Please. I don't want them to see this, to see me."

"Sara, they need to process the scene," Catherine told her gently. "But I promise, I will keep them away from you. Don't worry."

Although Sara never told her, Catherine's gut told her that her friend had just been sexually assaulted. She had pieced it together during the phone conversation: Sara sounded on the verge of tears, she wanted new clothes, she didn't want the men around...

"Sara, you're a couple miles outside the city," she said, quickly opening Sara's locker and grabbing a duffle bag full of clothes. "We should be there in a little while. Do you need an ambulance?"

"NO!"

Catherine recoiled from the yell, and said, "Alright, alright, but I'll make the final call as to whether or not you need to see a doctor. We'll be there soon. Hang in there. Do you need me to stay on the line with you?"

But as she finished the sentence, the phone clicked shut. All of a sudden, she was aware of everyone's eyes on her. Nick was the first to vocalize everyone's confusion.

"Cath, what's going on?" he asked. "Where's Sara at? Is she alright?"

"I don't know Nicky, but we're about to find out."

Sara snapped her phone shut and clenched it in her hand. The tears were leaking from her eyes and her legs felt as wobbly as a newborn colt's. She slid to the cold linoleum floor – her ribs screaming as she did so – and wrapped the thick, fluffy towel more securely around her body. She then snaked her arms around her shins and buried her face in her knees as she cried.

_Why me? What did I do?_ she thought to herself. _I never did anything wrong...I help people for a living, damn it! Why am I being punished?_

Her body shook as she struggled to breathe evenly. Her ribs disliked the jerky motions. The Advil had kicked in, but it was no match for the broken bones. Sara tried to focus on breath shallowly and in a controlled, steady fashion. She was soon interrupted by her phone ringing again.

_Gil Grissom_.

Sara cursed silently. She should have expected that he would call; they spoke every day around noon, Vegas time – which was around nine o'clock at night where Gil was – but Sara had missed that day's conversation, due to recent events. It was now midnight, the middle of morning in Paris.

Before the phone went to voicemail, Sara picked up.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Hi dear," he replied. "You didn't call...I was worried. Is everything alright?"

Sara chewed on her lip, arguing with herself. She knew that he would want to know what had happened, but she also knew that he wouldn't take the news so well, either. She didn't want him to have to bear this burden, even though they were married. Deciding that a lie would be the best option at the moment, she cleared her throat and said, "Yeah, fine. I, uh – must have been more tired than I thought. I fell asleep on the couch before I had a chance to call you. I'm sorry."

"No worries," he said, but he could hear the flatness in her voice that she tried so hard to conceal. "Are you sure you're alright, you don't sound yourself.

"I said I was fine, Gil," she snapped. She instantly regretted it. "I – I'm sorry. Just a rough case. Uh, listen, I'm, uh, at a crime scene...I'll call you later."

"Alright," Grissom said, confused. "I thought you just finished that case though...shouldn't you be at the lab, doing paperwork?"

Sara huffed a breath of annoyance. She regretted this, too, knowing it would tip him off that something _was_ wrong. She also knew that he just cared about her, and that's why he was asking so many questions.

"No, a new case came up," she answered flatly. "I'll do paperwork later. I have to go."

"Uhm, okay," he answered, the perplexity obvious in his tone. "I love you Sara."

But she had already snapped her cell phone shut. Guilt ensnared her heart and she sighed, telling herself that she had to remember to apologize to him later. After all, this wasn't _his_ fault.

Sara rested her forehead on her knees and sat on the floor for a long while. She didn't hear the vehicle pull up to the house, but she did hear the front door open. Frozen with fear, Sara's muscles locked up and she couldn't move. Her first instinct was that her kidnapper had returned for her. Her lungs had difficulties remembering how to breathe and her fingers curled into fists, her nails biting into her palms.

"Sara!"

She relaxed when she recognized Catherine's voice. Sara couldn't make her vocal cords answer, but she knew that Catherine would find her rather quickly; the house was so small. Sure enough, moments later, Sara heard the soft footfalls of Catherine just on the other side of the locked door. The blonde knocked softly and said gently, "Sara? Sara it's me. I have your clothes, and the guys are all outside looking for anything that will track down the man who did this to you. May I come in?"

"Uhm, sure," Sara replied, starting to pushed herself up off the floor.

Her ribs were jostled and she couldn't bite back the moan of pain.

"Sara?" Catherine asked, alarmed. "Sara, are you alright? What's wrong?"

Sara didn't reply, but bit down on her lip and quickly erected herself to a standing position. She didn't want to admit it, but she knew that she would need to see a doctor. Sara pulled the towel more tightly around herself and walked to the door. She unlocked it, barely cracked it open, and whispered, "Can – can I have my clothes first?"

Catherine nodded and handed the duffle bag to Sara. Sara remained out of Catherine's line of vision as she took the bag and then reclosed the door. She relocked the door, dropped the towel, and then rooted through the bag for clean underwear and a bra. She then slipped on a pair of baggy sweatpants and one of Grissom's sweatshirts. She imagined that she could still smell his scent and then wrapped her arms around herself, pretending, for a moment, that the arms belonged to him.

Sara then opened the door and let Catherine into the small bathroom. Catherine stepped in and then gasped, "Sara, your face! What happened?"

Sara glared at the woman and said stiffly, "I _told_ you. I. Don't. Remember."

Catherine looked guiltily at her friend, the apology written across her face.

"I'm sorry, Sara," she said, gently reaching out to touch Sara's shoulder.

The brunette stiffened, and Catherine pulled her hand back. While she did so, she couldn't help but notice that Sara's hair was damp. She sighed and then asked, "Why did you shower? You washed all of the evidence away."

Sara thumbed to the white trash bag that contained the "evidence".

"All of my clothes are in there," she murmured. "As are nail scrapings, pubic samples, vaginal swabs, possible DNA from these," she pointed to the suckle marks on her neck, "and anything else you might use. I needed to get him off of me."

Sara's voice broke, as did Catherine's heart. She soothingly rubbed Sara's back as fresh tears welled in her eyes. Sara blinked them away, never being the kind of person to show emotion to anyone. Except Grissom. And as much as she wanted him to stay in Paris, Sara couldn't deny that he was the only person she wanted to see at the moment.

The silence in the bathroom was soon shattered by a buzzing sound. Sara looked down at the phone clenched in her hand, but it was not the source of the noise. Catherine unclipped her cell phone from her belt and looked at the caller ID. Surprise lit up her face. She opened up the small silver device and slowly put it to her ear.

"Well hello there, Gil."

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**A/N 2**: Well there you go. I hope you liked it. Review to let me know one way or another...I enjoy any type of feedback. I'm hoping to post another chapter by the weekend. Have a great day!


	3. Chapter 3

**From Paris With Love:**

**Chapter 3:**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing...I just like playing with the cast members.

**Spoilers**: Anything that has aired in the US is fair game.

**Summary**: There are three things in life that Sara Sidle is familiar with: the dark, soreness, and being kidnapped.

**A/N**: A huge thank you goes out to everyone who read my last chapter! I did not expect the number of reviews I've received, so thank you so much for making my first story a success.

* * *

"Well hello there, Gil," Catherine answered.

Sara's body stiffened and she was sorely tempted to grab the phone from Catherine and hang up on her husband. He could _not_ know what happened. He would come straight to Vegas, where he would worry obsessively about Sara. She had seen that side of him in the weeks that followed Sara's abduction by Natalie Davis. He barely let her out of his sight, and when he did, he called her periodically to check in on her. It became suffocating, especially for Sara, who was not used to somebody caring for her.

Sara shook her head vigorously at her supervisor and motioned for her to end the phone conversation. Catherine's eyes narrowed in confusion at Sara's reaction.

"What's up Grissom?" she asked. "You never call."

She motioned for Sara to stop her whispered pleading and then turned her back to the brunette.

"Hey, Cath, has Sara been...okay...lately?" he asked. "I mean, have you noticed anything different? I spoke to her earlier...she just didn't seem herself."

Catherine eyed Sara, and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She wasn't sure _what_ she should say to him. Sara's eyes portrayed the pain and pleading for Catherine to stay silent. She bit her lip and she, guardedly, said, "Well, this latest case really got to her. And she went out for a drink last night. Maybe she's just still coping with the case."

"Then why did you send her to another crime scene?"

Catherine glared at Sara. Sara, who could hear every word, shrugged apologetically. Catherine huffed out a breath and said, "Well, I just sent Greg and Ray to relieve her. I need her here with me to wrap up the paperwork...Lord knows she's a quick writer."

Grissom, on the other line, nodded. His eyes were squinted, the way they usually were when he was trying to work out a difficult problem. He knew that there was something the two women were keeping from him.

"Uh huh," he said, licking his lips. He breathed a sigh and said, "Catherine..."

Catherine cringed. She had heard this tone before, and she _hated_ this tone. He used it when he was firmly ordering her to tell him the truth; he used it when he figured out her secrets.

"What are you keeping from me?"

Catherine eyed Sara warily; she had to tell her ex-boss. Sara read the defeat in the blonde's blue eyes and her face fell and her heart hammered. She quickly tried to lunge for the phone, but her ribs had her moaning in agony, clutching at her abdomen.

"Sara?" Grissom asked worriedly. "Was that Sara? I thought she was out in the field. What happened? Is she alright?"

"She–"

"I'm _fine_, Grissom," Sara firmly snarled. She reached for Catherine's phone again, not as violently this time, as she hissed quietly, "Hang up the damn phone, Catherine!"

Grissom, in his little apartment in Paris, was on his feet. He strained his ears to hear Sara's whispered words of protest. Instantly, he knew something was very wrong, and, still keeping the phone glued to his ear, he swiftly walked to the bedroom and grabbed a small suitcase before throwing clothes into it.

"Catherine, what the hell is going on?" he demanded, his heart thumping unevenly as he quickly packed for an impromptu airline flight.

Catherine pulled away from Sara and placed her hand on the brunette's shoulder, keeping her back. She took the phone away from her mouth and whispered, "I'm sorry, but you'll thank me later."

She brought the small device back to her face and said, "Gil, I think you might want to visit Vegas for a little while. Sara is okay, but...well, I think she needs you. And I've got to go, I'm sorry for being vague, but I think you need to hear it from her. Take care, have a safe flight. Bye."

She clicked the phone shut, turned the power off, and looked apologetically at Sara, who was glaring murderously at her. Betrayed, Sara tensed her jaw against the tears she could feel prickling her eyes.

"How _could_ you, Catherine?" she whispered brokenly.

Catherine threw her hands up in frustration as she said, "What else could I do Sara? You would never tell him, and he needs to know. I'll leave you to tell him what you want, but at least he'll be here with you...there is only so much comfort that I – or the team – can provide for you. Why do you not want Grissom to know? If something happened to Lou, I would want to know. I would want to be there with him. I would want to do what I could to make him feel comfortable. And if something were to happen to me, I would want him at my side. Don't you want Gil here with you?"

"Cath," Sara said brokenly, "this would kill him. I can't tell him. There's nothing he can do now. He should just stay in Paris...I would have called him and just–"

"You'd what?" Catherine asked forcefully. "Pretend nothing happened? Pretend that you're alright? Sara, I've been in your shoes, and thank God Warrick was around, because he helped me get through it. Trust me, Grissom is who you need."

Sara shook her head and buried her hands in the long sleeves of the sweatshirt. On the counter, Sara's phone began to ring shrilly. She sighed. She knew who it was.

"Damn it, Grissom," she growled.

She terminated the call and then turned her phone off, too, before slipping it into the pocket of her sweatpants. Catherine sighed and approached her friend. She gently touched Sara's shoulder and offered a half smile as she said, "Do what you want when he gets here. But for now, you're going to the hospital.

"I don't _need_ the hospital," she muttered, but she didn't fight back when Catherine began shoving her towards the door.

"Sara, you're injured, and you'll probably need the morning-after pill," Catherine said gently.

Sara sighed, and an uncomfortable feeling coiled in her stomach. She felt nauseous and again, the invisible hands were touching her again. She followed behind Catherine as they made their way to the car.

Catherine had ordered the guys to stay away from the car until she had Sara securely away from the place, and she was surprised that they honored her request. She jumped into the driver's seat as Sara slowly shuffled to the passenger's side. Sara's ribs were still aching, and she was calculating the best way to get into the vehicle without causing unnecessary pain.

She bit her lip and gently sat on the edge of the cushioned seat before sliding backwards and straightening herself in the seat. A muffled whimper escaped her guard and Catherine glanced at her with concern. Sara breathed deeply, clenching her eyes shut, as she waited for the sharp, fiery pain to fade from her body.

"Sara?"

Sara forced her lids to peel back so she could look at the blonde. Sara read the concern in her coworker's eyes, and she sighed. Catherine would find out sooner or later... She lifted her sweatshirt, which revealed purpling bruises that were fanned across her stomach. They were mixed patterns of handprints and what appeared to be fist impressions. Catherine barely swallowed the gasp forming in her throat.

"Oh, Sara," she breathed, her eyes wide and her mouth unable to stay closed.

Sara gently covered herself, but then pushed the sleeves up her arms, revealing the hand-shaped bruises that twisted around her forearms. After that, Sara pulled down the fabric of the sweatshirt that revealed her slender neck. The hickeys were there, prominently standing out against Sara's pale skin, but there were new shadows darkening the skin as well...more handprints. They had only begun popping up after her shower. That explained why Sara's neck was so sore.

"And my legs have some more," Sara murmured, bowing her head in shame.

"What happened to you?" Catherine murmured rhetorically.

Sara kept her head down and looked at her folded fingers. She chewed on her lower lip as she twisted her wedding ring around her finger. The gold glinted the flashing lights of the city as Catherine sped through the town until they got to the hospital. In the parking lot, Catherine watched as Sara fiddled with her ring.

"May I?" Catherine asked, motioning to the jewelry.

Sara slipped both of her rings off of her finger, which quickly felt naked and exposed. Catherine twirled them around in her fingers, admiring them from all angles. The engagement ring was a thin, golden band that had a simple diamond in the center with two smaller diamonds set on either. Simple, yet beautiful – perfect for Sara. Her wedding band was just as simple, yet just as beautiful. It had a crisscross pattern that formed a diamond shapes across the middle of the band. Situated in the middle of each diamond was a real diamond, the small precious stone embedded into the band.

"These are beautiful, Sara," she whispered in awe.

Sara smiled and said, "Yeah, when Gil first showed up at the camp I was at in Costa Rica, he proposed – again – and presented that to me."

"Again?" Catherine asked, handing the pieces of jewelry back to Sara.

"Oh, right, sorry," Sara said, "I forgot we didn't tell you. Gil, uhm, proposed shortly before I left Vegas. You remember that bee experiment he had set up? Well, when I went in to see what he was doing, he, uh, just...proposed. Out of the blue. I said yes...but then I left. I felt awful for doing that to him...but I had burnt out. So, after a long-distance relationship, things weren't really working out, so I just sort of broke it off. It killed me to do it...but I couldn't force him to chose between me and his work. I knew he loved being a CSI–"

"He loved you more," Catherine said softly. "You should have seen him – I'd never seen anybody so...so _despondent_. I knew he wouldn't stay."

Sara nodded and continued, "A few weeks after I'd told him that our relationship couldn't just remain the way it was, he showed up at my camp in Costa Rica. We just stood there and held each other for a long time...after we broke apart, Gil dug around in his pocket and pulled out this," she motioned to the engagement ring, "and asked me again to marry him. I said yes, and we were married a few weeks later."

Catherine was smiling brightly, extremely happy for her friends. Sara had a small smile still lingering on her lips as she replaced the diamond ring to its proper place. She then sighed and curled her hands into a fist. Catherine reached out and touched Sara's hands. Sara gave a small jump at the sudden contact, but then lifted the corner of her mouth in a half smile. Catherine squeezed her hand in a small act of comfort.

"Ready?"

Sara took a deep breath and slid out of the car. She slowly walked around to Catherine's side and the two walked into the hospital. Sara mainly kept her head down, embarrassed about being there and admitting what had happened. She was given a flimsy paper hospital gown to change in to, and after a whispered argument with Catherine, she slipped into it. She felt extremely exposed. The nurse wanted to take her clothes, but Sara refused, stating that she had already given Catherine the clothes she's woken up in.

"Alright, Sara, you can have this room," the nurse said in friendly tones. "We'll do the exam in just a few moments."

"Uh, no, you're not," Sara said firmly. "Just give me the emergency contraceptive pill and get a doctor to tape up these damn ribs."

The nurse furrowed her brow in confusion, and Catherine stepped in to say, "Miss, we already have evidence, provided by Sara, and she already showered. Just, get her the pills and a doctor, please."

The nurse nodded and left the room. When she did, Sara sighed and said, "I hate hospitals. They think they know what the patients need."

Catherine pulled a camera out of her bag and said, "Uh, Sara, I'm going to have to...photograph your bruises."

Sara jerked her head up and glared at the blonde. Catherine smiled apologetically and pulled the lens cap off of the camera. The brunette scoffed and held out her arms first. Sara closed her eyes while Catherine photographed her stomach, her neck, and her legs. She also had her cheek documented.

"Thank you," Catherine said softly.

Sara curled up on the bed, clutching Grissom's sweatshirt tightly to her chest, and waited for the doctor. While she waited, Catherine sitting beside her silently, she thought. She desperately tried to see through the foggy memories of last night. She could not remember anything, and that was frustrating. A knock broke her conversation. The doctor strolled in and took her for x-rays, which showed small rib fractures to her middle ribs.

"I could have told you that," Sara muttered darkly under her breath when the doctor announced the news.

The doctor prescribed painkillers and wrapped her chest tightly to help stabilize them. He then hooked her up to an IV fluids bag, claiming that she was dehydrated, which made sense, seeing as she was drugged for a good part of the day.

"This should help," the doctor told her with a smile as he finished wrapping her ribs. "You should just wrap them for a few days and you should be alright, but no strenuous activities for a few weeks, okay? Now, about the contraceptive pills. The effects are permanent...once you swallow them, there is little to be done to reverse it. Are you sure you want them?"

Sara rolled her eyes and whispered, "Yes. Just give them to me now. I don't want to be pregnant with a stranger's child."

The doctor nodded somberly and left the room to get the medication she requested. Catherine eyed her friend warily as Sara thrummed her fingers against her thigh. Moments later, the doctor reentered the room, holding the pill and some water. Sara quickly swallowed it before the doctor could lecture her again.

"Alright, Sara, how are you feeling, pain-wise?" the doctor asked, holding up a morphine drip.

She rolled her eyes, again, but the aching and burning had reappeared and she nodded in affirmation. She settled into the rough, scratchy mattress and pulled the sweatshirt towards her, making a second makeshift pillow. She inhaled the familiar scent of her husband while the doctor hooked up the pain medication. Within moments, her vision grew black and she slipped into oblivion, a dreamless oblivion.

When she awoke, she awoke with a start. The room was too bright for her liking. The lights weren't on, but nobody had shut the blinds on the window, and the sun was glaring into the room. She groaned in frustration and flung her arm across her eyes, but the light still penetrated through. Her head was throbbing and spinning.

Suddenly, the light went away. She cracked open her eyes and saw that somebody had blocked the sunlight. She was about to thank Catherine, but the blonde was nowhere in sight. Instead, her deep brown orbs met the most beautiful, pair of deep blue eyes she had ever seen.

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**A/N 2**: I hope you enjoyed this new installment. Let me know what you thought, or if you have any suggestions. Thank you and have a great day!


	4. Chapter 4

**From Paris With Love:**

**Chapter 4:**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing...I just like playing with the cast members.

**Spoilers**: Anything that has aired in the US is fair game.

**Summary**: There are three things in life that Sara Sidle is familiar with: the dark, soreness, and being victimized. Grissom comes back to Vegas after receiving terrifying news concerning his wife. GSR

**A/N**: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story. I hope you like this chapter.

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Gil Grissom, alone in his apartment in Paris, was thoroughly confused as he looked out into the evening. Little shops were closing for the night and the moon sparkled over the river that passed right behind the apartment complex. Everything was peaceful, gentle – well, at least in Paris. Las Vegas was another story. He had just had a brief and, admittedly, awkward conversation with his wife of nearly two years.

He stared at his phone, contemplating whether or not to call Catherine. Sara had missed their usual evening phone conversation – he had assumed she was either busy or asleep. He has called her townhouse and the call was forwarded to her voicemail. He'd left her a message, telling her he missed her, he hoped that she was holding up alright, and that he loved her. When the clock stuck midnight in Paris, Grissom had fallen into a restless sleep on the long leather sofa, one that he and Sara had purchased when they first moved to France, with his phone in his hand.

When he awoke, he had called the townhouse again, for he figured she should be up and about, preparing for that night's work shift. When that call went to voicemail, he grew slightly concerned. He had called her cell phone next. He was relieved beyond words to hear her beautiful voice answer the phone. But Sara seemed rather reluctant to be speaking to him, and she had cut the conversation short, leaving him utterly baffled and a little hurt.

That was when he decided he should call Catherine. He watched the people of France bustle around the small town in which the Grissoms resided as he held the phone to his ear. Finally, he heard the blonde's surprised exclamation of, "Well hello there, Gil."

She asked him what he wanted, seeing as he never called. He smirked: nothing ever got past her. That was what made her a good CSI.

"Hey, Cath, has Sara been...okay...lately?" he asked her, rubbing the corners of him mouth with his fingertips, a nervous habit. "I mean, have you noticed anything different? I spoke to her earlier...she just didn't seem herself."

He heard the faltering of her breath and a pause. His eyes narrowed, suspicious of why it was taking her so long to respond to a simple question. It was unlike Catherine to be lost for words. She let out a soft sigh as she said, "Well, this latest case really got to her. And she went out for a drink last night. Maybe she's just still coping with the case."

Grissom heard the tone in her voice that implied she was guarding what she wanted to say. He hated when she did that. That tone of voice usually meant she was lying. Or stretching the truth, and that was the last thing he wanted to hear.

"Than why did you send her to another crime scene?" he challenged.

He felt somewhat smug as he heard Catherine fumble for a reply.

"Well, I just sent Greg and Ray to relieve her. I need her here with me to wrap up the paperwork...Lord knows she's a quick writer," she explained rather lamely.

But he couldn't help the smile that formed across his lips. Yes, Sara could write very rapidly, but her handwriting was awful. That was one of the many quirks he absolutely loved about her.

However, Grissom could still tell that Catherine was lying. After working with her for over a decade, he had picked up on all of her tells. His eyes involuntarily narrowed as he tried to figure out what the two women were keeping from him. He licked his lips, another nervous habit, before he sighed, "Catherine...what are you keeping from me?"

He heard nothing. He strained his ears to hear her breaths; she finally sighed. Grissom, again, felt smug that he had managed to guilt Catherine into telling him the truth. But then he heard another noise, a noise he could recognize anywhere. It was a moan, a moan uttered from his wife's beautiful mouth. He was all too familiar with it, but this time, it was not a moan of pleasure. It was one of pain.

"Sara?" he asked, his heart fluttering faster in his chest. "Was that Sara? I thought she was out in the field. What happened? Is she alright?"

The seconds seemed to tick by agonizingly slow as he waited for somebody to acknowledge him. Catherine, again, sighed and murmured, "She–"

"I'm _fine_, Grissom!"

His breath caught in his throat and his chest felt constricted. She hadn't called him 'Grissom' in years...unless she was mad at him. Sara sounded so angry, so upset. He immediately jumped to his feet when he heard her hiss, "Hang up the damn phone, Catherine!"

"Sara!" he called loudly, hoping she could hear him. "Catherine, what the hell is going on?"

He still heard scuffling noises and Sara's whimpers of agony. His feet carried him to the bedroom and his hands mechanically found a bag, into which he threw miscellaneous articles of clothing. He had packed the clothes quickly and had grabbed his keys and was almost to the door when Catherine said quickly, "Gil, I think you might want to visit Vegas for a little while. Sara is okay, but...well, I think she needs you. And I've got to go, I'm sorry for being vague, but I think you need to hear it from her. Take care, have a safe flight. Bye."

The connection was dead, and silence rang in his ears. The blood was pulsating in his ears as well. Fear ignited every nerve in his body as he ran to his car. He prayed that, when he got to the airport, he'd be able to catch a flight to America and then to Vegas in a timely fashion. As soon as he was speeding too quickly on the roads of France, he was dialing Sara's number.

"Come on, sweetheart," he coaxed softly, "please answer. Please."

He was surprised when the call went to voicemail after only three rings. He hung up, tried again, and this time, it went straight to voicemail. She'd turned off her phone. He dialed Catherine's number, but she must have shut her cell phone off as well. Frustrated, Grissom threw his phone into the passenger's seat and spent the remainder of the drive running through all of the possible scenarios of what was happening in Las Vegas, Nevada.

Luck was with him. When Grissom arrived at the Paris airport, he had only had to wait a half an hour to catch a flight to New York. From there, he'd had to rush to catch his next connecting flight to Vegas. But the worst part was sitting in the plane, surrounded by people, alone with his thoughts. Thoughts that frightened him. He wanted – needed – to know what had happened to his wife.

All in all, ten hours and nine time zones later, Gil Grissom was on his way to the luggage pickup area, cell phone in hand. He dialed Sara's number, but it was still off. He tried Catherine's, and, miraculously, she answered, "Gil, where do you want me to pick you up?"

He chuckled nervously and said, "Uh, Las Vegas International?"

He could hear her eyes rolling as she said, "I'm not an idiot. Literally, where? I'm in parking garage B at the moment."

He was surprised, but began immediately walking towards the sign that designated the parking areas. He quickly found her car, hopped in, and she began speeding through the familiar town of Las Vegas.

"So, you're looking good, Gil," she noted.

And he did. His skin was a healthier shade and seemed to be glowing. His eyes were brighter. His face wasn't as ashen and marred with lines of fatigued. Sara had been his miracle cure.

"I still can't believe you two went and got married without telling us," she continued, oblivious to his growing irritation. "Speaking of which, can I see _your_ ring. I saw Sara's...they're gorgeous."

Grissom, with a sigh, let her look at his hand. His was a simple golden band with the same crisscross patterns that formed diamond shapes along the middle of the ring. But his didn't have the tiny diamonds embedded within the gold.

"You two are so lucky," she said enviously, giving him his hand back. "Where did you get married? Paris? That would have been so romantic. But Costa Rica must have been beautiful, too. God, I'd want to go somewhere topical for _my_ honeymoon. But it's probably really buggy...perfect for you. Does Sara have any issues with bugs? I'll bet she doesn't...how could she, hanging around with you forever? Do you guy have any pictures or videos of the ceremony? I know the team would love–"

"Catherine!" he interrupted. "Where is Sara?"

Catherine bit down on her bottom lip, her hands clenching the wheel a bit more tightly, and she stared intently at the black asphalt. The sun was glaring into the car as Grissom waited for a reply. When he didn't receive one, he said, "Look, Catherine, I just spent ten hours on an airplane. I'm exhausted. I just want to see my wife."

The blonde looked at him, apologies written all over her face, pain written in her eyes. She reached out, grabbed his hand, and squeezed it. His heart thudded uneasily. Nothing good could possibly await him in Vegas...

"Gil, I'm sorry," she said after a few moments, and she truly sounded sincere. "Really, I am, but I promised Sara I wouldn't tell you...that I'd let her explain."

"Where is she Catherine?" he demanded harshly.

She sighed, taking the exit off of the highway that led to Desert Palm Hospital. Catherine beckoned to the enormous building and said, "Right here. Second floor, room two-oh-seven."

Grissom stared at the building, his brain unable to comprehend why Sara would be here. He felt numb and his mouth moved, but no word formed. Catherine touched his shoulder, and he jumped. He turned to look at her and she whispered, "Go. She needs you. She should be awake...the Doc gave her morphine hours ago and she's been sleeping ever since. And when you see her, wait for her to explain. I know it's cliché, but it's really not what it might look like at first."

Confused, Grissom opened up the car door and stepped out into the morning light of Vegas. The air was dry and a cool breeze ruffled his hair. He looked back at Catherine, who made no move to exit the vehicle, and asked, "Aren't you coming?"

She shook her head and said, "No, I have a crime scene waiting for me. You go."

With that, she pulled away, leaving him more confused than he had been in the first place. Shakily, he walked into the building and up to the second floor. He took the elevator, positive that his legs wouldn't support him if he took the stairs. When the elevator doors reopened, he slowly walked out and looked for her room.

201...203...205...

207.

He stopped in front of the door. Fearing the unknown, Grissom took a deep breath and slowly reached for the handle. His eyes instantly searched for his wife's face, but all he saw was her tangled mess of brown hair. Love coursed through his veins, a fresh batch being pumped through his body with every beat of his heart.

Grissom walked up. A small smile spread across his lips when he saw that she had one of his sweatshirts clenched in her arms. He reached out to her and gently brushed the hair out of her face with his fingertips. He froze when he saw her newly-exposed neck. His heart faltered when he saw the blotchy, mouth-shaped bruises formed along the delicate skin. His breathing became ragged and his already shaky legs trembled even more violently. He fell into the nearby chair and tried to slow his pulse.

He recognized those marks. Hickeys. He'd given a few to her previously; on several occasions, she'd had to wear a scarf to work to hide them. Since they'd been married and secluded in foreign countries, she hadn't had to cover them up. But they hadn't had any physical contact in months. Was it possible that Sara – _his_ Sara – had...

_No_, his mind firmly answered. Sara would never do that to him. She wouldn't _cheat_ on him. Plus, Catherine had told him to wait until Sara could explain for herself. But she really didn't need to explain...the evidence never lies. Unless, of course, somebody interpreted it incorrectly.

A soft groan brought him back to the present situation. Sara was stirring; she'd thrown her arm across her face.

Grissom, seeing that the morning sun was directly over her pillow and in her face, moved to close the curtains. After just awaking, it must be extraordinarily bright for her. He turned back around to face her, biting his lip nervously as she opened her eyes. She had opened her mouth to say something, but when her beautiful, soft, chocolaty eyes found his, she froze.

"Hi, Sara," he murmured softly.

Her mouth moved, but no words came out. Her heart was thumping erratically as she stared at her husband, her lover. She swallowed strongly and said, "Gil. How...how long have you been here? How long was I out?"

Grissom shrugged and said, "I got here barely ten minutes ago. I caught the first flight I could to the United States...my connecting flight was in New York. The whole trip took a little over ten hours. It's almost noon, if that helps."

"Wow, noon," she murmured, massaging her temples. "The whole damn day is wasted. The doc gave me the morphine at around – uh, two or three this morning, maybe?"

Grissom nodded, not quite sure how to proceed. There were so many questions he wanted to ask her, but he also didn't want to offend or upset her either. He was glad to see that she was still wearing her wedding ring, though. He slowly approached her bed. He froze when he saw that her left cheek was totally scraped open.

His heart squeezed in his chest uncomfortably as he saw the many hickeys marring her pale skin, as well as faint bruises. He sat on the edge of her bed, near her shoulder, and his eyes flickered all over his wife's body. Sara lay in the bed, her heart hammering. She wanted to reach out to him, but a quiet voice in the back of her mind was telling her that he was repulsed by what he was seeing. Instead, she clenched her hands into fists and kept them firmly in her lap.

"Oh, honey," he murmured, reaching out to take her hand in his. "What happened?"

Sara looked up at her husband. His deep blue eyes were full of concern and, behind that, pure, unconditional love. Her eyes filled with tears and she opened her mouth to answer him. Her reply caught in her throat and her ribs were shooting sharp stabs of pain through her body as her breathing became erratic.

"I–"

But that was all she could say. The tears blocked her throat and the cries began clawing up her chest. Pain ensnared Grissom's heart as he watched his wife battle the words and emotions. Her body shook with the sobs. Suddenly, she felt a familiar pair of gentle arms encase her in a loving embrace.

Grissom had snaked his arms around her thin frame and pulled her gently to his chest. He had never seen her so vulnerable; not even when she had been pulled from the desert, barely alive. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, planting soft kisses along her hairline.

There they sat, husband and wife, locked in their tender embrace while the tears cascaded down Sara's cheeks.

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**A/N 2**: I hope you liked it...I know it sort of stopped where I stopped the last chapter, but I really wanted to one from Grissom's perspective. I'll try to update within a few days. Have a great day!


	5. Chapter 5

**From Paris With Love:**

**Chapter 5:**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing...I just like playing with the cast members.

**Spoilers**: Anything that has aired in the US is fair game.

**Summary**: There are three things in life that Sara Sidle is familiar with: the dark, soreness, and being victimized. Grissom comes back to Vegas after receiving terrifying news concerning his wife. GSR

**A/N**: I am so excited about how much support this story is getting. To all of my readers and reviewers: you're awesome and thank you so much!

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With his wife's warm body gently cradled to his chest, Grissom finally was able to relax. Her actions spoke louder than any words she could have uttered. The way she clung to him, the way she curled into him, the way she gripped his hand tightly all told him that she still loved him, still wanted him, still needed him. And that was all that mattered. He could deal with the rest later..._they_ could deal with the rest later.

"Shh," he gently cooed, running his hand tenderly up and down her back. Her sobs were slowing, but she was trembling from head to toe. Grissom, unsure of what, exactly, to do, continued to stroke her back through the insubstantial fabric of the hospital gown. "It's alright. I'm here. Shh."

For an immeasurable length of time, the couple stayed in their embrace. Grissom sat on the edge of the rough mattress and Sara was in between lying down and sitting up, but was encased in her husband's strong, comforting arms. She held his hand tightly, as if she would disappear if she let go, as the tears dripped down her cheeks until there were no more. Sara, a little embarrassed at her lengthy show of weakness, instantly tried to straighten herself into a less vulnerable position. He allowed her to. But as soon as she was supporting her torso on her own, her ribs made their discomfort blatantly obvious. Not able to swallow the gasp of pain, Sara fell back onto the pillows, clenching her jaw tightly.

"...pain in the ass..." was all Grissom could catch of her muttered profanities.

"Sara?" he asked, his eyes portraying his fear and concern.

Sara bit her lip and tried, once more, to clamber to a sitting position. She was about to give up when a pair of strong arms gently snaked under her knees and around her shoulders, trying to avoid the many bruises that were peppered across her skin. Grissom smoothly and affectionately lifted her to the pose she was struggling to achieve. Her lips curled upwards in a small, nervous smile as she murmured, "Thanks."

He returned the smile. He kept her hand tightly enclosed in his as he struggled for words. She waited patiently, knowing he would eventually tell her what was on his mind. It just took him awhile to articulate a sentence when he was speaking from his heart.

"Sara," he whispered, "I know something's happened. And I think I know what, but I won't force you to tell me anything until you're ready. I just want you to know that I am here for you. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health."

Sara couldn't meet his soft blue gaze, but instead looked to their intertwined fingers. The diamonds of her engagement ring glittered in the muted lights, as did the gems on her wedding ring. Situated directly beside her wedding ring was its match, resting lightly on Grissom's fourth finger. She smiled, still unbelieving of the miracle that he was hers and she was his; that they were _married_.

"Gil, you know I love you and I appreciate you being here," she murmured softly, her gaze still fixed on the matching golden bands. "I just...I...I can't... This...the truth...it would tear you apart, and...and I don't want to inflict _my_ pain on _you_. It...it's not fair to you."

His face fell as he listened to the pain and the tears thickening her voice. He had never seen her so lost for words; he had never seen her so _broken_. He squeezed her hand reassuringly and brought it to his lips to kiss each digit softly. He then brought their clasped hands to her cheek, where he lovingly caressed the tender skin.

"When you married me, I vowed to God the Almighty that I would protect you, nurture you, and love you with every breath I took," he told her, trying to catch her flittering glance. "I wasn't here to do the first part. But I'll be damned if I won't stick to the rest of my vows. I _will_ nurture you. I _will_ love you. No matter what happened, happens, or will happen. You are my true love, the light of my life. And I will be here to protect you from now on. You'll never spend another day alone."

Sara raised her eyes to give him a watery smile; nobody could ever make her feel the way he made her feel: loved, beautiful, wanted, needed.

"So I will be here for you when you decide you want to talk," he concluded. "Don't feel like you need to hide from me; don't feel like you need to protect me. I can handle it because I love you. But for now, my dear, just rest."

She grimaced and muttered, "I slept all day; I don't want to go back to sleep."

He chuckled at her stubbornness and was going to insist that her body needed sleep to heal when a knock on the door interrupted him. In walked a doctor. It wasn't the same woman who had bandaged Sara's ribs or given her the emergency contraceptive pills. No, this doctor was a young male doctor.

"Good morning, Miss Sara," he said as his cheek lifted in a crooked grin. "Hope you slept well. How do your ribs feel?"

"Sore," she grunted, not particularly fond about her personal time with her husband being interrupted.

The doctor – Doctor Lancing, from his nametag – smiled sympathetically and said, "Yes, well they probably will be sore for a few days. I have your prescription for you, but first, I want to examine you to make sure there isn't too much damage under there."

Confused, Sara watched the doctor approach her. He slid his latex gloves onto his large hands – the material snapped ominously into place against his wrists – and moved to the bottom part of her bed. Heart hammering and the bile rising, realization dawned in her eyes.

"No," she brazenly growled.

Doctor Lancing offered her a gentle smiled and reached out to pat her foot reassuringly as he said, "I just need to make sure that you aren't too torn up. I promise it will be quick and mostly painless."

Oblivious to her oncoming panic attack, the doctor reached for her blankets, but Sara snatched them fiercely and pulled them up to her chin, a fire burning deep within her eyes. She shook her head back and forth as she curled her feet up under her. The motion sent a burning sensation from her sore southern parts throughout her core. She bit back the groan and instead continued to shake her head.

"No," she firmly repeated, her voice faltering when the doctors hands were close to her thighs. "No, I don't need an examination down there!"

"Ma'am," Doctor Lancing said soothingly, "there could be damage of which you are unaware. You said to my colleague that you have no recollection of the incident? Well, I need to make sure something isn't seriously wrong."

"Just...stop," Sara whispered, her confidence dripping away faster than sand in an hourglass. Her breathing was becoming labored and her chest heaved as she tried to suck in oxygen between her lips. Her ribs screamed at the jarring motion. "Please...stop...please. Get away from me! Don't touch me! Get out!"

She continued to whimper her refusals of the doctor's exam until she heard a frightening voice snarl, "She said 'no'. Get away from her."

Doctor Lancing, looking incredulously from the patient to her husband, said, "Sir, she could have tearing which might lead to an infection. I need to check her, and stitch her up if I find that the tearing is severe."

"I think she'd know if the damage was _severe_, pal," Grissom hissed. "Now, if you don't mind, I believed my wife asked you to leave."

Stunned, the doctor stood and swiftly stalked out of the room. Grissom's heart rate was escalating as he glared at the now-closed door, wringing his hands in fury. He never remembered being so angry. He heard his wife quietly sobbing behind him, and he turned around to face her. The scene broke his heart. Sara, his strong, beautiful, tough-as-nails wife was in a shattered mess. The tears cascaded down her cheeks in rivers; her whole body shook with violent sobs; her knees were pulled tightly to her chest; the blankets that were pulled up to her chin were concealing her from the world.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, instantly going to her side.

He reached out to touch her but she flinched away from his hand. A sting of hurt ripped through his chest, not only from her rejection, but also because his fears were confirmed. The actions displayed by Sara clearly screamed 'rape'. Grissom bit his bottom lip and his eyes narrowed as he contemplated what to do. She didn't want anyone near her, but she needed comfort.

"Sara," he said tentatively, "do you want me to call a nurse? They could give you morphine and you could sleep more."

She violently shook her head as more sobs tore up her throat. She was gasping for breath and clutching at her ribs, desperately trying – and failing – to steady them. She moaned.

"Honey, you're in _pain_," he whispered, his voice cracking on the last word. "Don't try and be strong."

Again, she shook her head. But she lifted her head, allowing him to see her puffy, red eyes that were full of tears, as she croaked, "No, I don't want to be drugged. The memories play nonstop when I sleep, and I can't escape them when I'm in a drug-induced sleep. I don't like it. Gil, please."

He nodded, but was still unsure of what to do. He was unconsciously fumbling around with his hands, tried to overpower the urge to throw his arms around her and hold her tightly. She was still curled in on herself, but the hysteria was slowing, to his observation. He tried again to comfort her.

"Sara," he mumbled, slowly placing his fingers on her hands, which were still clutching the blankets to her neck. "Please, honey..."

He met her gaze and, when he saw the raw fear and pain within their depths, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to him. He kissed the top of her head repeatedly, chanting sweet nothings in her ear, as he gently rocked her in his arms. He trailed his fingers up and down her arms in what he hoped was a soothing gesture.

It felt as if they stayed like that for hours until Sara finally spoke in a small voice.

"After shift the other night, Greg and Ray invited the whole team out for a drink," she whispered, her voice oddly blank and dispassionate while she kept her head cradled in the crook of her husband's neck. "Lord knows we all needed one. But Nick just wanted to go home, and Cath was going to Detective Vartaan's place, so it was just the three of us. The plan was just to have a drink or two, but it turned into more. I can't remember how many beer's I'd had, and I didn't want to chance driving home...I'd been busted for _that_ already, as you very well know. So I called for a cab.

Greg and Ray both offered to drive me home, but you know that they live on the opposite side of town, so it would be a waste of time and gas for one of them to take me home. I insisted that they both go home and that I'd, uhm...that I'd be fine."

Her voice faded, but Grissom knew better than to interrupt. He was biting his lip as he cradled his wife. He planted a firm kiss on her temple as he waited for her to continue.

"And that's it," she whispered, almost inaudibly. "I – I can't remember if I ever got into the cab or if I even made it home. I do remember that I woke up once during the middle of the day, but I wasn't entirely lucid, so I don't remember much. Just that my clothes were missing and that it was bright in the room...the sun was shining right on my face.

But then it goes fuzzy again...I think somebody drugged me again. The next think I remember is waking up, alone, in that strange house. I got a shower – I needed to get him _off_ of me – and then Catherine called me. She had figured out where I was and was on her way to get me when you called... I was rude to you, I'm so sorry about that..."

Grissom held onto her more tightly as he told her, "Do not apologize, Sara. I knew something was wrong when I spoke to you...I just didn't know what, until now."

Sara wriggled around, with some help from her husband, until she was looking into his eyes. She raised her hand to touch his cheek and gently stroke the skin. He caught her wrist and moved her hand to his mouth, where he kissed her palm multiple times. She smiled at him, and then removed her hand from his. Before the hurt could flash through his eyes, she wormed her arms around his neck and tightly held onto him. Worried about aggravating her injuries, Grissom scooted closer to her until she was almost sitting on his lap. He buried his face in her neck, and she froze. Slowly, Grissom pressed his lips lightly to the skin of her neck, which was still marred by the bruises and suckle-marks. He brushed his mouth across the bruises, kissing the skin softly.

He was pleased when she relaxed into him instead of retreating away from him. He brought his hand to her cheek and cupped her bruising jaw, forcing her to look at him. Fear and insecurity were the main emotions he saw, but shadowed behind that was trust and love for him. Not breaking eye contact, he leaned in towards her until his lips brushed hers. He waited for her to make the next move.

Sara pressed her lips to his fiercely as she wound her hands into the curls at the base of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her torso, pressing her gently into him, and returned her passion.

They broke apart only when the need for oxygen became too great to bear. Her eyes opened slowly as she breathed out his name. Love was now the dominant emotion swirling around in her chocolaty orbs, followed by complete faith and trust in him. He smiled and gently touched his forehead to her as he whispered, "I love you, Sara. Forever and always, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health."

* * *

**A/N 2**: I hope you enjoyed this chapter...and that the Grissom-Sara relationship wasn't too out-of-character. Please review to let me know what you thought and have a great day!


	6. Chapter 6

**From Paris With Love:**

**Chapter 6:**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing...I just like playing with the cast members.

**Spoilers**: Anything that has aired in the US is fair game.

**Summary**: Grissom comes back to Vegas after receiving terrifying news concerning his wife. GSR

**A/N**: I'm enjoying all of the feedback I'm getting for this. Please continue to give me your input...I also enjoy any suggestions you may have.

NOTE: This chapter is rated a very strong T.

* * *

Catherine Willows drove in one of the department's large vehicles back to the lab, where she was hoping to process the "goodie" bag Sara had graciously supplied. The only problem was keeping prying eyes away from what she was investigating, because, if she knew Sara, the brunette would not want the entire lab to find out that she had been victimized. And although she still felt bad for Hodges, she was suddenly very grateful for Wendy's absence, because the lab had yet to hire a replacement, therefore Catherine could go through Sara's clothes and impromptu rape kit without acting too secretive.

The blonde walked into the layout room and shut the door, hoping that, if someone were to interrupt her, she would have fair warning by either a knock or the opening of the door. With the harsh fluorescent lights shining brightly over the sterile table, Catherine set the trash bag of evidence on the side of the slab and opened it.

She first would look at Sara's clothes, combing through every fiber to look for any trace evidence left behind. She pulled out her coworker's jeans, blouse, panties, bra, and socks and set them on the table. The jeans had blood on them, near Sara's pubic area, which did not surprise Catherine, but she felt a pang of empathy towards Sara. She swabbed the blood and labeled the box in which she concealed the swab. But there was not much else on the pants.

At least nothing that could be seen with the naked eye. Catherine pulled out her ultraviolet flashlight and, when she ran it over the denim, watched a few spots glow brightly under the black light. Sighing, Catherine took samples from all four spots that had been illuminated them, and boxed those swabs as well.

That was all of the physical evidence Catherine could find on the pants. There were no fibers and no hairs, but she swabbed the material thoroughly for epithelia. However, the metallic button of the jeans was loosely hanging by a few threads, the zipper no longer fastened properly, and one of the belt loops was halfway torn off. Catherine assumed that damage was caused by somebody ripping the jeans off of Sara. She documented the findings, and set the jeans aside in a proper evidence bag.

Next was the blouse, which also did not provide much evidence, to Catherine's dismay. Sara's attacker was very conscious as to not leave much behind, but Catherine prayed that the semen she found would lead her to somebody, because the shirt gave her nothing but a lone hair. It was a short hair that appeared to belong to a dark-haired man.

The bra and socks that Sara supplied offered nothing, either, but, again, Catherine swabbed for any trace of skin cells left behind by Sara's attacker. The bra appeared to have been ripped from Sara's body as well, but the socks didn't seem to have been touched.

So, saving the most hopeful for last, Catherine moved to Sara's underwear. The blonde collected bodily fluids – but from Sara or her attacker, she could not be certain – and boxed those swab samples as well. The fabric was torn, most likely from it being haphazardly removed from Sara's body.

After going through the clothes and collected many samples, Catherine took everything – the clothes, her evidence, and Sara's self-collected rape kit – and headed for the DNA lab. Hodges was in the glassed-in area, printing results from a case he was working on. When he saw Catherine enter, he put on a smile and said, "Well, Catherine, what can I do for you?"

"Thanks, David," she replied, supplying him with her own small smile, "but I think I can run these on my own."

Intuition flaring, Hodges just nodded but didn't push it, sensing that Catherine wouldn't share any information with him. He gave her a cheesy bow and a half-smile before he exited the room. Rolling her eyes, Catherine began to run the samples she collected through the machines that were scattered all around her as she went through Sara's evidence. She couldn't help but smile when she saw that Sara had even labeled what was in each bag with what appeared to be a Sharpie marker.

Catherine was surprised by everything that her colleague had collected. There was blood and DNA under Sara's fingernails that she had collected, as well as some hair that Sara had noted was caught between her fingers and in her rings. She also gave Catherine samples of her own hair so that the blonde could detect any drugs that were lingering in Sara's system. There were pubic samples and vaginal swabs, including a possible foreign pubic hair. Sara had swabbed her neck for any traces of saliva, and also her stomach, which had housed dried semen when she had awoken in the bed.

"Good girl, Sara," she murmured to herself as she looked at everything the young woman had provided for her.

As Catherine began to run the evidence through the lab's equipment, she called up Nick, who was still at the crime scene. She requested that he, Greg, and Langston comb through every square inch of that property for any shred of evidence that would help them.

"Cath, would you _please_ tell me what the hell is going on?" he asked in his southern drawl. "What's happened to Sara? Is she alright? We've been here for hours, and we've all agreed that we don't like what the scene is telling us."

"Well what is it telling you?" Catherine asked.

She heard the young man blow out a deep breath before he replied, "Well, it looks like one hell of a party happened here. There are beer and liquor bottles strewn everywhere, some full, most of them empty. There is a lot of drug paraphernalia lying around. Semen in almost every room, blood accompanying it most of the time. There's hair everywhere too, like it's been ripped from someone's scalp...more than one donor, I'd bet; there are short ones and long ones. Sounds to me like it was a wild, out-of-control party...or the scene of terrible violence, like a sexual assault."

Catherine listened intently to Nick's descriptions of the house with pursed lips. Yes, it did sound like a wild party crossed with rape. Somebody had a good time, and it sure as hell wasn't Sara. She was jolted back to the conversation when Nick said, "...not much foot traffic though. Only one set of tire treads in the driveway, and it only appears to be the home of one person. So, what was Sara doing here? What happened, Catherine?"

She sighed and said, "Nicky, I'd like to know the answer to that as well."

**CSICSICSICSICSICSICSI**

Back at the hospital, Grissom and Sara were still lounging on her bed. Sara had edged closer to the right side of the mattress to make room for her husband to lie down. She knew that the hospital personnel would probably pitch a fit when they saw that she was sharing her bed with him, but she didn't give a rat's ass at the moment. He was keeping her calm.

She was curled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. His one arm was wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close to him, as his other hand firmly held onto hers. He caressed the back on her hand with his thumb while sporadically bringing her knuckles to his lips to kiss the skin. He noticed that some of her fingernails were broken, and he inquired about it.

She paused, let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and said, "Well, if a stranger is crawling on top of you, are you just going to let him run his hands all over you?"

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth before replying, "Well, no, but I thought you were drugged for most of it. A drugged woman...well, it would be harder to fight back. That's usually the purpose behind a drugged rape, other than the memory loss the drugs provide."

He felt her stiffen beside him and he moved his head to look at her. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes hard darkened into a hard, almost black color. Grissom gently traced the contours of her chin, trying to get her to relax.

"Sara, you can tell me," he whispered in her ear.

She sighed before she said, "Fine. I – I lied to you, when I first told you the story. Well, not entirely, but... Gil, I really don't remember how I got to that house. Greg, Langston, and I got to the bar a little after ten that evening...we'd pulled a double, so Catherine let us go home, even though, technically, shift had just started for that night. Day and Swing shifts both picked up the slack graciously. Anyway, the last I remember it was almost midnight, and I was starting to feel a little..._odd_. That's when we decided to leave. I figured it was just the alcohol, and that was why I called for a cab.

"But then I woke up at around five that morning...I had no memory of getting home. However, that had happened before...occasionally, when we'd had a long shift, I would be so tired that I wouldn't remember how I got home. But I soon realized that I wasn't _home_. I didn't know where I was, and I knew I wasn't alone. I could hear somebody crashing around the house...that's when he entered the room."

She paused, her throat constricting as the tears welled in her eyes. Grissom's heart pulsated rapidly in his chest as he fought to control his breathing. He couldn't let Sara see how anxious he was, or how furious he was becoming. Instead, he leaned his cheek against the top of her head as she nestled closer to her husband, inhaling his scent for comfort.

"Then, he...he crawled onto the bed with me," she continued, her voice shaky and full of tears. "I could smell the alcohol all over him...I can still smell it. He, uh, he had a syringe in his hand. So, out of instinct, I tried to knock it away from him. He was no more lucid than I was, so I managed to wrestle it away from him. I scratched his arms up quite a bit...he wasn't too happy about that, which led to this."

Sara motioned to the hand-shaped bruise that was growing darker and darker as the time passed. She could still feel his rough, calloused hand on her flesh, and she swallowed convulsively as she rubbed at the sore area, trying to make the feeling go away. Grissom, watching her, threaded his fingers through hers and moved her hand away from her neck, kissing it before resting their joined hands between their bodies. He looked down at her and waited for her to continue.

"He then barked out a laugh – it was so harsh and raspy – before he told me that I'd wish for the drugs in a few moments," Sara whispered, clenching her eyes shut against the memories. "And he was right. He...he had a vodka bottle with him and he polished it off before...before he...he raped me with it."

She couldn't fight the tears any longer. The sobs filled the silence as she curled even closer to her husband. Grissom's heart was aching; it pained him to see his wife so pained. He gathered her in his arms and whispered soothing sentiments and words of love in her ear as he massaged her back. He also fought back the anger he felt swelling inside of him; he had never considered himself to be a violent man, but Gil Grissom was murderously angry. His fingers had curled into fists and his heart pumped the fury through his veins. If Sara didn't need him here with her, Gil was sure he would go out and find the bastard himself and kill him with his bare hands.

But as he held his shaking wife in his arms, Grissom was pulled out of his violent fantasy. Sara needed a husband, a friend, a lover...not a murderer, not a monster. She'd dealt with enough monsters in her life.

He ran his fingers up and down her back and planted kissed along her temple as she cried. After a long moment, Sara had regained her voice and resumed her story.

"Uhm, after what seemed like forever," she whispered, sounding as if she was suffering from a terrible head cold, "he stopped. I thought he was done. I moved to curl up under the covers, but he just...laughed...again. He hovered over me and whispered to me that he was just getting started. I guess my instincts kicked in...literally. I felt my leg flail...I'd kicked him in the groin, and he began to hit me. I don't remember much after that, to be honest...when I came around, my body felt bruised. I think that's when my ribs were injured.

"He was still there with me...but this time, I just could not move. I knew I wasn't drugged, but he had wounded me so that I had no strength to fight back as he dropped his pants and...and raped me again. He was so violent. I remember that I was crying, and I think he injected me with the drug he's intended to give me earlier. I passed out shortly after, I think a combination of the pain and the drug.

"When I woke up, it was early in the afternoon... and the same thing happened. This time he used a beer bottle first and then with...just him. Afterwards, he injected me again, and I don't remember anything else except waking up, alone."

When she finished, Sara's voice had gone emotionless, as it had been when she had first told her husband that she couldn't remember anything of her attack. But Grissom was sure that his wife wasn't lying this time; the depth of the pain in her eyes gave her away.

"Oh, honey," he breathed as he held her tightly. "I'm so sorry."

Again, he felt the anger licking through him like a wildfire, blazing out of control. But fear also coursed through him. He had no idea that a foreign object had entered into his wife...or that she had been sexually assaulted several times.

"Sweetheart," he whispered, "I think you may need the doctor to examine you. It is very possible that you have tearing down there...your attacks sound very violent."

She whirled around to face him, anger glinting in her dark eyes. Her jaw was set in a very stubborn fashion, a very familiar sight, to him. He held his breath and prepared for her protests.

"No, Gil," she hissed. "I do not want anybody else _touching_ me! I do not want anybody else _looking_ there! You said it yourself! I would know if the damage was severe."

He sighed and said, "Yes, Sara, I know what I said...but that was just to get that doctor away from you. The arrogant bastard was completely rude and insensitive to you. And, I hadn't heard the true story, so I didn't know how harshly you had been treated. But Sara, you and I both know that more often than not, there is vaginal tearing when a rape occurs, particularly with a foreign object. So will you please have a doctor check you? I will request a new doctor, a female. _Please_?"

"Damn it Grissom!" she snarled. "No!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled sharply. She was so stubborn.

"Sara," he said, drawing out her name slowly, "I love you. More than my own life. Please, for me, have yourself checked out. Please, honey?"

Sara's eyebrows pulled together as she fought the tears. She knew that he was being so adamant because he loved her and because he truly did not want there to be any severe damage within her walls. Truth be told, she didn't want there to be any severe damage, either. She bit her lip and whispered, "Fine. For you, Gil. But...just get me a new doctor. The old one was an ass."

He chuckled at her remark and began to sit up. Sara made a noise of protest and gripped his hand more tightly. A small smile was playing at Grissom's mouth, but when he saw his wife's terrified expression, the smile quickly disappeared.

"Don't leave me," she pleaded in a small voice. "Please. You promised."

Seeing the desperation and pain in her eyes, he nodded. He rested his back against the pillow again and Sara rested her head on his stomach, wrapping her arms around his waist, clinging to him. As he ran his fingers through Sara's silky strands of dark hair, Grissom reached over and pressed the call button for a nurse.

* * *

**A/N 2**: I hope you liked it. Please tell me if the rating needs to up bumped up to M. I tried not to make it too explicit. Thanks for reading, and have a swell day!


	7. Chapter 7

**From Paris With Love:**

**Chapter 7:**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing...I just like playing with the cast members.

**Spoilers**: Anything that has aired in the US is fair game.

**Summary**: Grissom comes back to Vegas after receiving terrifying news concerning his wife. GSR

**A/N**: I am so sorry that it took me forever to post this! School has really picked up in pace and things have popped up too. I'm really sorry, but I hope you all enjoy this anyway.

**A/N 2**: PLEASE NOTE! I have changed the rating of this story because of the content in this chapter, particularly at the end! Please don't read on if you don't like sexual content.

* * *

In the lab, Catherine and her team – minus the one currently in the hospital – was anxiously running all of the evidence they had collected through the myriad of machines that were set up in the CSI lab building. They were restlessly awaiting the printout results, but, to their dismay, they were receiving very little to go on. The fingerprints and DNA Catherine had collected had provided no name. Although Sara's attacker had left plenty of evidence behind, none of it had been helpful. His DNA wasn't in the system, nor were his fingerprints.

"Damn it!" Nick spat when the final fingerprint revealed to be a 'no match'. "This guy knew he could leave behind every shred of evidence possible and still not get caught by the computers! This makes no sense! With the amount of violence that house showed, this son of a bitch should be on file! Nobody goes from being Mr. Perfect to Mr. Psychopath in an instant! Progressions usually occur! Damn it!"

Catherine sighed. She, too, was frustrated with the lack of progress, but was able to contain it, unlike her counterpart. Instead, she just shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing, and set her hand on Nick's shoulder as she said, "We'll get him, Nicky. We'll get him. Just...keep searching. I'm going to go talk to Sara...maybe she's remembered something."

She began to walk away from the men, but was surprised to hear their footsteps follow her. She stopped, turned around, and said, "Look, I know you're worried, but I really don't believe Sara would appreciate a fuss being made. You know she dislikes any attention. Keep working the case...we're bound to catch a break sooner or later."

"Well, she means a lot to us," Greg interjected. "We can't just let her sit in a hospital, all cooped up by herself. She'll go stir-crazy. Plus, I don't think she should be alone until her attacker has been caught. You never know...he might go for her again."

There were nods and murmurs of agreement from behind the young man. Catherine took a deep breath and pursed her lips, but nodded. Although she knew Sara wouldn't be alone as long as Gil Grissom was still breathing, she figured a quick visit couldn't hurt. She knew how close every member of her team was to each other; they were their own dysfunctional family, and Sara was no exception.

**CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSI**

In the hospital, Sara was curled up into a ball against her husband's chest, dreading the arrival of the doctor, which would mean she would have to expose her private – and not to mention, sore – areas to a stranger. She prayed a female doctor would be available to do the examination; besides, Gil promised. Nobody but a female would do the checkup.

When the heavy wooden door opened, Sara cringed into Grissom. He tightened his hold on her, but murmured words of encouragement into her ear. He was relived that an elderly female nurse entered the room.

"Is there a problem?" the nurse asked, a small smile playing on her lips as she gazed at the couple lying in the bed.

Grissom waited for his wife to reply. When she didn't, he sighed and said, "I believe my wife is in need of a vaginal examination."

Sara stiffened at his rather blunt request. She felt her cheeks go hot, and she buried her face into his shoulder as he continued, "And I would have to request a female. You should know that her prior doctor – a gentleman by the name of Doctor Lancing – was rude and unsympathetic to her current state, both emotionally and physically."

The nurse nodded apologetically and said in her slight Southern drawl, "I am so sorry. Doctor Lancing is new to this facility, and to this profession. Honey, you drew the short straw, I'm afraid...you're his very first rape victim. I'll be sure to notify his supervisor. I am so very sorry, dear. You know what, I'll go and get his supervisor straight away; she's in the building presently and is very good at what she does. You'll be in good hands soon enough. Just sit tight there sweetie and I'll be right back. Do you need any more morphine?"

Sara shook her head profusely. The nurse eyed her warily, not fully believing the brunette; she had seen Sara's file and took note of all of the damage and bruising. _Poor thing must be in awful pain_ she thought, sighing.

"Well, if you change your mind, just give me a call," she said with an encouraging smile. "I'm Lucy, by the way. I'll most likely be the person you'll be seeing the most of while you're here...well, 'cept for that handsome gentleman sitting right there beside you."

With a smile and a wink, Lucy exited the room, and Sara's muscles relaxed out of their tense position. Grissom soothingly chaffed his hands against her arm lightly, trying not to aggravate the harsh bruises that were developing on the fair skin. He missed touching her, running his fingers up and down her skin. It felt good to hold her again, and he vowed to never let any distance get between them ever again.

And apparently he wasn't the only one longing for the loving contact. Goosebumps followed behind his fingertips, a reaction that always occurred when he stroked her. Not able to hide the smile that spread across her lips, Sara abruptly twisted her neck and captured Gil's lips in hers. Surprised – but not complaining – he returned her passion as he twisted his fingers through her silky strands of dark hair and cradled her head in his hands. The broke apart, panting, their lungs screaming for air.

Sara had a toothy grin on her face, and she moved her hand to his face, caressing the soft skin of his cheek. She breathed in deeply and sighed out, "I love you, Gil. So much. And I – I'm really glad you're here. I'll have to thank Catherine later."

Grissom brushed his lips across her forehead, but was restrained from progressing further when a sharp knock sounded on the door. Lucy and a tall, young doctor entered the room. Lucy was still smiling at the couple, and the woman accompanying her also couldn't stop her lips from twitching into a tiny smirk.

"Hi Sara," she said, walking slowly up to the brunette. "My name is Doctor Trudy Gilmore. I'm sorry that we have to meet under these circumstances. I know how difficult this must be for you. Now, if I may, I'll be taking a quick peek under the blankets. Tearing could lead to an infection...which is rather painful. Uh, sir, I'm going to need you to scoot off the bed for a just moment."

Grissom looked down at Sara, took her hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly before he slid off of the mattress. He never released her hand.

"Thank you so much," Doctor Gilmore said with a grateful smile. "I promise you can be with her in a few short minutes. Now, Sara, would you like him to stay with you, or would you prefer if he'd wait outside while we do this."

In response, she tightened her grip on her husband's hand until her knuckles turned white before she squeaked out, "He can stay."

The doctor nodded and said, "Alright...a loved one is often the best pain medication. You're lucky to have him here with you."

Sara smiled up at him, getting lost in the ocean-blue orbs she saw, and whispered, "I know."

"Okay, now Sara, I'm going to just pull the blankets down, okay?" she said, reaching for the mint green fabric. She watched as Sara unclenched her fists from the blankets and, at her patient's nod, the doctor pulled the sheets to the foot of the bed. She noticed that Sara was still curled into a tight ball, and she whispered, "Sara, I know this is hard. Believe me, I know. I've been exactly where you've been. I was nineteen and at a New Year's Eve party. I was drunk and drugged, and then raped by several of the boys at the party. When I woke up, I thought I'd be okay...but, as it turns out, I had severe vaginal tearing and bruising and later contracted an infection. But that wouldn't have happened if I'd gone to the hospital, like my best friend had advised when I told her what had happened. So please, let me help you."

Sara slowly uncurled her legs out from under her. She clenched her eyes shut as she spread her legs for the stranger sitting at the foot of the bed. She felt a warm, comforting hand stroke her hair as the pressure on her hand increased. Inhaling the familiar scent that could only be described as purely "Grissom", Sara pictured Gil and herself, hand in hand, walking along a beautiful beach of Costa Rica, with Hank trotting along a few paces ahead of them. That was where they had been married, in the fiery orange light of the sunset as the waves crashed against the sand. It was utterly breathtaking and magical.

Gil had donned a midnight black suit and a sapphire blue tie that complimented his eyes perfectly. He'd trimmed his beard but hadn't fully shaved it off; he knew how much Sara enjoyed the sensation of the rough hair scratching along her sensitive skin. Which was why he'd kept the facial hair for their wedding night. She could still faintly feel his hands tenderly fondling every inch of her skin as his beard caressed her neck and cheek – which made her shiver in pleasure – while they made love in the dying light of the evening.

But Sara then heard the doctor pull on latex gloves, which snapped her back to the less-pleasant present time. The doctor gently set her hand on her patient's knee reassuringly.

"Alright," Trudy said soothingly, "are you ready Sara?"

When the brunette nodded, the doctor slipped a cold metallic instrument into Sara. Although startled, Sara found she didn't mind it much; the coolness provided relief from the constant burning. But the foreign object reminded her of that vodka bottle...it, too, was cold. Sara clenched her eyes tighter still against the onslaught of memories that were surfacing as she fought to control her breathing.

"Shh, sweetheart you're doing so well."

Sara was suddenly very grateful for Gil's presence. She felt him hold her more tightly and she doubted she could have gone through this examination by herself. She gripped his hand more tightly as a whimper escaped her guard and slipped past her lips. Grissom's stroking of her hair and cheek increased in tempo as he tried to keep his wife calm. He couldn't wait until he could hold her in his arms again.

"Okay Sara," the doctor said, sliding away from the foot of the bed and standing. "You did very well. I'm afraid there is a moderate amount of damage in there...I have no choice but to stitch you up."

Sara groaned. The doctor smiled sympathetically, patted her knee, and said, "I'm sorry. But it will be better in the long run. Trust me. Now, just sit tight and it'll be over soon. I'm going to give you more pain medication and I'll try and numb the area...this is the worse part, I'm afraid. But it's the final stretch...in a few minutes, you're home free."

Sara nodded and bit her lip.

"Speaking of which," she began, "when _can_ I go home?"

The doctor licked her lips and replied, "Well, I'd like to keep you in here for a few more hours to make sure no complications arise and to be sure you're fully hydrated again. But I don't see why you couldn't be on your way later tonight."

Sara let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and thanked her doctor. She turned to smile at her husband and said, "Good, I can't wait to go home. I just want to lay in bed curled up next to you for eternity."

Grissom returned her grin and caressed her cheek.

"Soon, my dear," he murmured. "And I promise we can go straight home and to bed. I'm sure you must be exhausted."

Sara shrugged and continued to play with Gil's hand, which had never once left her possession through the entire examination. She planted a kiss on his palm and anxiously awaited the return of her doctor.

**CSICSICSICSICSICSICSI**

Across town, sheltered from the blistering light of the midday autumn sun, Riley was meandering around his home. His hair was still damp from the shower he'd taken; he had to get the smell of the alcohol and the woman off of him. His head was pounding and he regretted drinking all of that booze last night. He had dressed himself in new clothes and trashed his old ones; they were too conspicuous, especially because of the blood on them.

Popping a Tylenol into his mouth, he swallowed them dry. Not only was his head killing him, but his arms were stinging too. That beautiful, leggy brunette with a name as pretty as her face – _Sara_ – had scratched him up pretty thoroughly. But he didn't mind; he enjoyed feisty women, and he knew he could over power her anyway.

He fell onto the cushions of his couch and leaned his head back against the sofa. He closed his eyes and disappeared into his memories. Although tall for a woman, she was as light as a feather as he carried her into the old shack his father had left him before he'd died. She was unconscious, thanks to the drugs his friend – and bartender – had slipped into her drink

He remembered the feel of her smooth skin under his fingers and he shivered. She was so beautiful. He kissed every inch of her skin and couldn't help but suckle on her neck; he'd always had a fetish for neck skin. It was a shame that he'd had to bruise the delicate skin, but she'd needed to learn a lesson; _he_ was in charge. And she'd smelled so heavenly. No perfume could ever match her unique scent. Her hair was so silky and soft that he had constantly run his fingers through it.

His pants suddenly felt a few sizes to small as the blood rushed south when he remembered the feel of her against him. She had struggled – she was quite strong, he had to admit – but that made the sensation even more blissful. He remembered the intense feeling of pleasure as he exploded into her again and again, and the uncontrollable shivers that had rippled through his body. Too bad she'd taken the emergency contraceptive pill...

Riley could feel his breathing becoming more labored as he felt his orgasm slowly climbing. His groin was pulsating and involuntary tremors were shaking through his body. With frantic hands and desperate cries, he rubbed himself through the rough fabric of his denim jeans. The material was painfully keeping his erection confined against the zipper.

With a grunt, he slipped the zipper down and pulled the waistband south until he had freed himself. His stiff penis was standing almost entirely vertical. He gripped himself tightly with both hands and couldn't control his bucking hips as he quickly ran his hands and fingers up and down the shaft before he fondled the sacs that hung below his erection. He clenched his eyes tightly shut, his mind's eye flipping rapidly through images of Sara that he kept locked away in the recesses of his memory for his own private viewing.

Riley's blood was thundering in his ears, but he could still heard Sara's moans and cries of pain and protest. He then moaned, the deep guttural noise emanating from deep within his chest as he felt the familiar tensing sensation deep in his stomach. Beads of sweat popped up on the skin of his face and neck and he felt the salty liquid drip down his back. He was close...

He remembered the feeling of Sara's walls slipping against his member as he thrust in and out of her harshly. His juices were mixed with hers, along with her sweet blood. It had felt unbelievably warm and soft and silky, and had tipped him over the edge many times.

Riley gasped and tightly clenched his hard penis in his hands. He was painfully close... Just a little more. Desperately and wildly out of control, Riley pumped himself even more rapidly and grunts and moans of deep, ecstatic pleasure slipped through his lips. He soon felt that familiar coiling feeling rise through his stomach, through his chest, and into his throat as he began to violently tremble and he lost control of his body. He closed his eyes and saw lights popping in front of his lids as he gasped out Sara's name over and over again, his orgasm rolling through him.

Breathing heavily, he reopened his eyes when he heard the chirping of his cell phone. With shaky hands, he turned over to reach into his back pocket, shivering and moaning when his sensitive, throbbing member brushed against the rough fabric of his couch. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice, before opening the small silver device and answering, "Doctor Riley Lancing."

* * *

**A/N 3**: I hope y'all don't hate me too much. Please let me know what you thought...I apologize ahead of time if you disliked the content at the end of the chapter, but I felt I needed to include it just to get into the attacker's mind. Have a great rest of your day!


	8. Chapter 8

**From Paris With Love:**

**Chapter 8:**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing...I just like playing with the cast members.

**Spoilers**: Anything that has aired in the US is fair game.

**Summary**: Grissom comes back to Vegas after receiving terrifying news concerning his wife. GSR

**A/N**: I hope everyone had a nice holiday and I hope this doesn't disappoint, and I apologize if there are any grammatical errors; it's late at night and my brain is a bit scrambled at the moment.

**PLEASE NOTE**: Again, this contains mature content and should not be read lightly.

* * *

Grissom was back on the bed, situated as close to his wife as he could get – Sara had wriggled her way against him – and was tracing random patterns on her bruised skin. She was lying in the bed quietly, her head tucked into the fabric of his shirt on his collarbone. She was so still, as though asleep, but he knew better; he could hear her occasional sniffles and shudders as she tried to suppress her sobs.

He could feel the moisture of her tears soaking through his shirt; they felt cold. But he didn't mind. If holding her tightly was the only aid he could give her, then he was damn sure he would hug her for the duration of her hospital stay.

She'd been silent since the doctor had stitched her up. He desperately tried to force the memory out of his head: Sara had cried out in pain more than once, even though the doctor had numbed the area. She had held on to his hand so tightly he had lost the feeling in his fingers for several minutes. But he dared not let go; she needed his support, fingers be damned.

Her voice was still echoing in his head. She'd whimpered out his name periodically through the stitching. The doctor tried to be quick yet thorough, but she wasn't quick enough, and had apologized to both Gil and Sara for the job she had to do. As soon as she was done, Sara had curled into the tightest ball and cried out against the uncomfortable tugging sensation that went along with the vaginal stitches. The kind doctor and nurse had left soon after, allowing the couple to be lost in their own world.

It had taken Grissom awhile until Sara let him back on the bed. She'd grabbed the blankets and tugged them over her head, trying – and failing – to disappear. When Gil had tugged the sheets away from his wife, she'd protested.

"Stop it, Gil. Leave me alone," she had snapped. "Give me back the damn sheets, and let me have some damn privacy! Please, I just want to be alone. I _feel_ like shit and I _look_ like shit!"

Grissom, wringing his hands in nervousness, had licked his lips and sat down on the edge of her bed, peering down at the brunette in the bed. After a quick internal debate, he had reached out and rested his hand on her cheek, ignoring her stiffened frame and glaring eyes. He caressed her skin with his thumb and simply said, "You're perfect."

She'd scoffed and tried to turn away from him but the stitches and the fractured ribs halted her movements. She cursed loudly at her weakened body and settled for turning her head away from him. Though he usually would have obliged and given her her space, he knew that space would be the worst thing for her.

"You are," he insisted earnestly. "Your eyes sparkle and shine and show the beautiful soul contained within. Your smile and laughter have enough energy to power the entire city. You have the most gentle, compassionate, _trusting_ heart of anyone on this Earth. You love everyone with your whole heart, even if they don't deserve it. You're beautiful, Sara."

She had snorted at this she turned her head to glare at him, skepticism written all over her face.

"Have you _looked_ at me, Grissom?" she had demanded, her eyes filling with angry tears. "Just _look_! I'm covered, head to toe, in bruises; half of my damn face is ripped off; my insides are shredded..."

Gil had placed his index finger over her lips to silence her. She was still glaring hotly at him and he quickly kissed her forehead and murmured, "You _are_ beautiful. And not just your physical appearance; you have a beautiful mind and soul. _'Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted __blind'_."

Sara had pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. Grissom suppressed a smile and again quoted, "'_In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they're still beautiful_.' You, my dear, are still beautiful, despite whatever may happen."

A warm tingling sensation had then filled Sara's stomach and she couldn't fight the small smile. Tears misted her eyes as she kissed his finger that was still perched atop her lips, and then took his hand in hers. She had scooted over to make room for him as she quipped cheekily, "Do you have some secret book that contains all of these quotes? You seem to have one for every occasion imaginable."

He just smiled at her and wrapped his arms protectively around her and kissed the top of her head. She had sighed and buried herself deeper into him, trying to hide from the rest of the world. His heart ached for her when he heard that first sniffle and felt that first drop of moisture soak through his shirt. He held onto her more tightly and whispered, "'_For every beauty there is an eye somewhere to see it. For every truth there is an ear somewhere to hear it. For every love there is a heart somewhere to receive it'_."

He had heard a noise – a cross between a laugh and a sob – issue from his wife's mouth and he began to soothingly stroke her back with gentle fingers.

That was how he had ended up with his wife cradled in his arms, laying together on the uncomfortable mattress. Sara was inhaling his scent – which was diminishing as the hours passed, thanks to the long hours he had spent on the plane – as she periodically choked back a sob. She felt safe, though, and she felt warm and tingly as Grissom sporadically whispered sweet words into her ear.

"'_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?  
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:  
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
__And summer's lease hath all too short a date'_."

She smiled into his shirt and lifted her face to plant a kiss on his jaw. Sara then sighed and settled back into her silent contemplation. As more time went on, she found that more details of her attack were surfacing, much to her dismay. She didn't want to remember, but yet the memories flooded back to her. Each time a new one arose, she had to sniff back the new onslaught of tears, and she curled into her husband even more tightly.

A knock on the door startled them both. Sara stiffened and clenched her hands into fists around her husband's shirt. She hated feeling this vulnerable, but she was certain that she would shatter into even tinier fragments if he left, even if to just answer the door. Holding onto him – and having him hold her, too – made her feel as if everything would be okay, because it reassured her of his love for her.

Grissom felt Sara hold onto him more tightly, and he sighed as he began to sit up. She whimpered – a combination of pain and protest – as he moved.

"Shh," he soothed. "I'm just moving us into a more proper position for company."

"It's probably just the damn doctor," Sara grumbled.

Grissom shook his head and showed her his phone. He knew he was supposed to have it off, but was in a rebellious kind of mood. Sara was surprised by how preoccupied she'd been in her own little world that she hadn't noticed he'd been texting.

"It's Catherine and the guys."

Sara stiffened. _Catherine_ she didn't mind, but the guys...

"Don't worry," he murmured into her hair. "Cath is coming in first, and, if you permit them to come in, she'll go and get the rest of the gang. I requested that they remain away for now, and she passed along my request.

She offered him a forced, watery half-smile, touched at his thoughtfulness, as she thanked him. He smiled crookedly at her and waited for her to get comfortable and hidden by the blankets before calling for Catherine to enter. The blonde slowly opened the door and peered in cautiously.

"Hi," Sara said, but her voice faltered. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Hey Cath. Come on in."

Catherine had a smile in place, trying to keep the mood light, as she slipped in. She walked over to Sara and gave the brunette a quick hug before she asked, "How are you doing?"

Sara shrugged and gave her supervisor a fake half-smile. Catherine smiled sadly and set her hand reassuringly on Sara's shoulder. She squeezed her shoulder and said, "Well, you'll be out of here soon, then you can go home and rest up. You have the rest of the week off. And before you protest, I'll just stop you. You need rest. Stay home, relax, spend some quality time with Gil. Then you can come back next Monday...strictly lab work, though, until the doctor clears your ribs for the field."

Sara grimaced and rolled her eyes. She knew she would be bored within a few days. But on the bright side, she'd have her husband all to herself for a week...

But damn. That doctor said no sexual intercourse for a couple weeks. Damn it!

Sara groaned, and Grissom, thinking she was in pain, instantly began looking for signs of distress. Sara soothed his fears quickly and then took the conversation in a different direction.

"So, have you had any luck with your investigation? Did my, uhm, my _'evidence'_ help?"

Catherine looked uneasily between the couple and chewed on her lip. The blonde looked apologetically at Sara, making Sara's – and Grissom's – heart sink.

"We're working 'round-the-clock on this," Catherine promised, taking Sara's hand in hers. "This creep won't be wandering the streets for much longer. But that was another reason I came here. I was wondering if you had any new information for me?"

Sara folded in on herself, her heart hammering. The rapist was still out there, and she'd be going home shortly. She'd be exposed...

"Don't worry Sara," Grissom whispered in her ear, seeing his wife's sudden tension. "I won't let anything happen to you. Remember what I'd told you earlier: you won't be left alone for one minute, I promise."

Catherine jerked her chin upward, a smile crawling across her lips.

"You're staying?"

Grissom nodded once and then focused his attention back on his wife, waiting for her reply. Feeling comfortable in front of Catherine, Gil pressed his lips to Sara's hand and held it tenderly in both of his. Sara twiddled her thumbs, relishing the feeling of her husband's skin against hers. It had been way too long...

"I think his name is Riley," Sara whispered, closing her eyes against the memory.

_Sara was laying on a lumpy, unfamiliar mattress, just awaking from the drug that had been slipped into her drink at the bar. Her head was pounding, her mouth was drier than cotton, and her wrists were bound by a rope to the headboard. Her heart hammered in her chest as she wriggled around, trying to get free from her confinements. Although she knew it was useless, the adrenaline was coursing through her, making her struggle violently which only resulted in her wrists becoming raw and bruised._

_"Shit," she cursed quietly. "Damn it! Where's my damn cell phone?"_

_She tried to feel for it in the pockets of her pants. She swore again when she remembered that she had put it in her purse...which she couldn't see in the dark room. Straining again against the ropes, she grunted as she tried to free her wrists..._

_...She stopped suddenly when she heard a rustling noise moving towards her. She watched in horror as a stranger entered the room. He was tall and lithe; obviously an athlete who could overpower her in a heartbeat. He turned to face her after he closed the door, but it was too dark for her to clearly see any of his facial features._

_"Hi Sara," he whispered lovingly into the dark. "How are you doing, sweetpea?"_

_Sara whimpered as he drew nearer and asked, "Why are you doing this?"_

_The man smiled crookedly at her, exposing two rows of straight white teeth as he approached her. She curled away from him – thank God her legs were free – and her breathing became more erratic as she struggled even more vehemently against her bonds. He swiftly closed the gap between them and rested his hand against her cheek and began to shush her gently. She could smell the alcohol all over him._

_"Shh, shh, shh," he soothed. "It'll all be okay, sweetpea. Such a pretty girl. It'll be over soon, just sit there, nice and still, my flower. Just be nice and still."_

_Fear coursed through Sara's veins as he crawled onto the bed with her. He reached up and untied her hands, confusing her. While he threw the ropes on the floor, she saw the metallic glint of a syringe and knew what he was about to do. Instincts took over the rational part of her brain and she struggled against him. She kicked out with her legs and arms. She felt her nails rake over his skin and her fist, somehow, made contact with his shoulder, causing the needle to fly across the room._

_"You're gonna want that later, sweetpea," he whispered, barking out a raspy laugh. "It's morphine. Just wait, you'll want that."_

_Sara continued kicking at him as he ran his hands up and down her jean-clad legs. That was how Gil always touched her..._

_"Please," Sara begged. "Please don't."_

_He smiled at her and unzipped her jeans and pulled the fabric down her legs. Sara kicked out violently and her foot connected with his groin. He huffed out a breath of agony, and she instantly regretted her actions when she saw the anger glint in his eyes. Sara closed her eyes and curled in on herself against the blows she knew were coming._

_Sure enough, she felt his fists land on her abdomen, making the breath whoosh in and out of her lungs. She clawed at him and she felt her nails breaking in the process. The man groaned in pain and his knuckles then connected with her cheek. Stunned, Sara lay flat against the bed, trying to reorient herself. She heard a swallowing sound, and the acrid smell of vodka. She then felt the cold lip of the bottle between her thighs._

_"No, no, no," Sara cried, tears falling down her cheeks. "Please, no. Please!"_

_She clenched her legs shut in an effort to keep him away from her, but the man wrenched them open anyway, and kept them propped open by kneeling on them. That's how some of the bruises formed on her legs..._

_"Please," Sara begged, watching the bottle grow closer and closer to her._

_She cried out when it entered her. It was cold and uncomfortable. She writhed on the bed, trying to get away from it, but she knew she was only making the damage worse. Pain shot through her body as he roughly shoved it deeper into her and then out. She screamed out for him to stop, and he groaned as he continued violating her. He was rubbing himself hard._

_"Please," Sara moaned. "Stop!"_

_But that was when the name entered her. She cried out against him as well. She was so sore..._

_He thrust violently into her, moaning as he did so._

_"Come on sweetpea," he grunted. "Come for Riley. Come on, come for Riley!"_

"Sara?"

She was wrenched back to reality by somebody lightly shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes to see her husband and friend staring at her in deep concern.

"Sweetheart, it's okay," Grissom soothed. "You don't have to talk about it now. It's going to be alright. You're safe now."

It was then that she realized that she had been on the verge of hyperventilation and was sweating profusely. Her heart was thudding harshly in her chest and her lungs seemed to have forgotten how to function properly.

"I'm okay," she muttered, embarrassed at her show of weakness. "I'm fine. So, uh, yeah, his name is Riley. He has access to morphine...at least that's what he had said was in the syringe he had. He kind of tall...maybe Gil's height. Thin, but athletically so, and he has these sharp green eyes."

Grissom held onto his wife more securely as she tried to visualize the rest of her attacker's face. She struggled, and Catherine said, "Sara, you've already been a big help. Just focus on getting rested, okay? Now, would you like to see the guys? I know they're itching to see you. They're worried about you."

"I'm fine," Sara muttered, making both Grissom and Catherine smirk. "But go ahead and get them. I don't think a short visit from them will do any harm."

Catherine grinned brightly and turned to get Nick, Greg, and Ray. Grissom held onto Sara and kissed her forehead.

"I wish the memories would just stay away," Sara whispered into his neck. "I was better off not knowing."

Grissom's heart broke and he wished he could provide more comfort for his wife. He rocked her soothingly and gently caressed the back of her hand. He was about to kiss her lips when a knock on the door startled them both.

"Geez, Catherine's fast," Sara muttered. "Come in!"

The door opened, and instead of the blonde emerging with the three men, Sara's eyes met a bright pair of emerald irises.

* * *

**A/N 2:** Hope you guys liked it, and I'm really, really sorry for the delay in the update. The holiday season has me busier than ever. Tell me what you thought, and I promise things will start getting interesting in the next few chapters. And below are the quotes I used in the chapter, along with their authors.

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind." - Shakespeare

"In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they're still beautiful." - Alice Walker

"For every beauty there is an eye somewhere to see it. For every truth there is an ear somewhere to hear it. For every love there is a heart somewhere to receive it." - Ivan Panin

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?  
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:  
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
And summer's lease hath all too short a date." - Shakespeare


	9. Chapter 9

**From Paris With Love:**

**Chapter 9:**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing...I just like playing with the cast members.

**Spoilers**: Anything that has aired in the US is fair game.

**Summary**: Grissom comes back to Vegas after receiving terrifying news concerning his wife. GSR

**A/N**: I hope everyone's New Year is going well so far. I'm really sorry that it is taking me forever to crank out chapters to this. I hope you enjoy it anyway! And this chapter doesn't contain too much mature content.

* * *

Riley walked through the halls of the hospital, his crisp white doctor's lab-like coat trailing behind him, as he walked to his supervisor's office. He had received a call from her – which had interrupted the private moment he had had on his living room couch – requesting his presence. That was all she had told him. So, when he arrived and had waltzed into her office, he was surprised by his "assignment".

"Riley, have a seat," his supervisor, Trudy, told him in a sternly professional voice. "Please. Do you remember a patient you were to see, a woman by the name of Sara Sidle?"

His heart began to flutter in his chest and his palms became sweaty. He pictured the beautiful brunette in his mind, but this time, the pictures weren't for pleasure. No, he was remembering how she looked in the hospital bed: her face was scratched open and bruised, marks of black and blue marred her skin, dark purple hickeys adorned her neck... He wrung his hands guiltily, ashamed that they had caused the extensive damage to Sara's perfect body.

He never meant to cause her that much harm. He couldn't even remember how she had scratched her cheek, but then again, he was both drunk and preoccupied. But the rest of her injuries were completely accidental, especially her ribs. He'd never meant to fracture them. At least the drugs had worked; Sara's file indicated that she was suffering from memory loss. He was safe...

"Riley!"

Trudy's sharp voice brought him back to the present situation. He winced at her harsh tone, and nodded to let her know that he remembered Sara.

"And you _are_ aware of her current situation, correct?" Trudy demanded. "You _are_ aware that she had just been brutally raped an beaten?"

Riley swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded slowly before Trudy continued, "Then you should _know_ to handle her gently, and slowly. I just received a complaint from Sara and her husband that your behavior was inappropriate towards Sara..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Riley exclaimed loudly, defensively. "What did they tell you? I was just doing my job! _You_ assigned me to her in the first place! You told me to check on her, and to give her a vaginal exam because the skin and tissue might be torn!"

Trudy's eyes glinted in annoyance as she replied in exasperation, "Yes, but when she says no, you're supposed to _back off_! The woman had just been violently raped, and _you_ were forcing yourself on her to try and look at her most private areas! For God's sake Riley, do you even use your head? She was already vulnerable, and you did nothing to soothe her! I was told her husband had to order you out because Sara was so distraught!"

Riley's temper was raging wildly out of control, but he managed to bite his tongue and put on a mask of guilt and repentance. He folded his hands in his lap and twiddled his thumbs and put on his best "I'm-so-sorry-and-I'll-never-do-it-again" look as he pleadingly looked up at his supervisor. He purposely stammered out his apology before promising to never act that way again. His insides felt lighter as he saw that his supervisor believed him. Riley was suddenly very grateful for his participation in the Drama Club at his high school.

Doctor Trudy Gilmore sighed and massaged her temples as she said, "Well, I'm not the one who needs the apology. I want you to go and apologize to Sara and her husband for your behavior, and then come back to my office. You've got a new patient waiting for you in the burn unit."

Riley nodded and headed for the door. He was jumping for joy inside: he would get to see Sara again! He had his hand on the knob of the door and was on his way out when his supervisor halted him by saying, "Riley, just so you know, Sara might not want to see you, so don't force yourself into the room. Put on your best apologetic face and say a few words to her, and then leave. You should also apologize to her husband, Gil, as well."

He nodded and smiled before strutting towards room 207. Riley felt lighter than air as he practically skipped to her room. He wanted to look into those deep brown eyes again. He wanted to memorize all of her curves and angles.

When he got to her room, he knocked tentatively, beginning to put on his act. He heard her voice – her sweet, beautiful voice – grant him entry to the room. A surprised look crossed her face; apparently she was expecting someone else. He smiled softly, apologetically, as he eased into the room slowly and he made himself as non-threatening as possible.

"What are you doing here?"

Riley winced at the harshness in the man's voice. He looked to the older man and into his hard, blue eyes as he pathetically whispered, "I'm just here to apologize for my prior actions. I was inappropriate to your wife, and to you, and I deeply regret my behavior."

"Apology accepted," Gil said stiffly, "now get out."

Riley ducked his head away from Grissom and then looked to Sara. What he was in her eyes made his heart momentarily stop beating. Within the chocolaty orbs, he saw fear and horror and recognition, with the latter being the look that electrified his nerves and coursed fear through his veins. Riley cursed internally as he realized that she put the pieces together and that she knew that he was the one who had violated her. Praying that his voice would remain strong, he continued with his act, "Ma'am, I am terribly sorry, and I hope I haven't negatively impacted your recovery."

He winced as he heard his voice shaking and kept his eyes on Sara. She hadn't moved throughout his whole speech, but her skin had paled considerably. Riley offered her a smile – God, she was gorgeous – and then whispered softly, "I'm so sorry, sweetpea."

He then ducked his head and left the room. He knew that she knew, and he was frightened. He couldn't remain here and just wait for the police to get him, new patient be damned. As quickly as he could and without attracting too much attention to himself, Riley Lancing rushed out of the hospital and to his borrowed car. His father left him _everything_ when he died, including the car. As he pulled out of the parking garage, he saw three men in uniform – other CSIs – standing near the door from which he had exited. Riley knew that they had been chasing him and was nervous for a while until he remembered that the license plate was too faded for them to read the numbers.

Still breathing heavily, Riley quickly drove home to get supplies. Of one thing was certain: he had to have Sara again. But to have her, he would need to get rid of her body-guard husband. With shaking hands, Riley picked up a small box from his closet floor and removed a small revolver from its depths.

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

Grissom rolled his eyes as he watched the young doctor exit the room. The man had the audacity to face Sara after he put her through such emotional trauma? Anger and irritation boiled in his stomach...

...Until he caught sight of his wife. She was shaking and was paler than a ghost as she stared fixedly at the door. Gil gently set his hand on her shoulder and was startled when his wife jumped sharply.

"Honey, what's wrong?" he asked fearfully.

He picked up her hand in his and was startled by how cold it felt, and by how harshly it was shaking. Grissom brought her hands to his mouth and kissed each finger lightly as he tried to make eye contact with her. Failing to do so, he said, "Sara, talk to me. Please. Dear, you're scaring me."

He watched his despondent wife curl in on herself as she mumbled, "Gil, that was him!"

Confused, he narrowed his eyes and replied, "Yes, that was that rude doctor. But he's gone now. Everything will be okay, Sara."

She shook her head and finally looked into her husband's eyes. Grissom was startled by the sheer fear he saw within the chocolate orbs. Finally, two and two added up to four, and realization dawned on him. His heart hammered in anxiety and his blood thundered in his ears as he waited for the reply he knew was coming.

She whispered, "No, Gil, that was...he was the man who...who...Gil, he..."

Grissom's eyes hardened as she stammered out her accusation. He was about to ask his wife if she was sure, but thought better of it after watching her reaction. He slid his arms around her still-shaking form and held her tightly as her tears spilled over. He was angry. The bastard who hurt his wife had been within his grasp, and he let him go. Grissom struggled against his emotions. He wanted to clench his hands into fists and follow the son-of-a-bitch, but Sara's warm body in his arms deterred any violent actions he wished to commit. Right now, she needed him, so he whispered soothing words into her ear as all of the memories surfaced. Sara whimpered and desperately tried to lock the images away into her head.

But she saw them all. She saw Riley sitting on top of her, vodka bottle in hand. She saw herself curled into a tight ball, begging for him to go away. She saw herself trying to make a run for it, only to be stopped by Riley pushing her into the wall, which sliced open her cheek. She saw herself falling to the floor, and then Riley violating her again on the thin carpet, which left a large bloodstain on the floor. She saw the malicious glint in Riley's eyes as he touched every inch of her skin, calling her "sweetpea" all the while.

"Sara?"

She was wrenched back to the present by Catherine's exclamation.

"Catherine, it was the doctor," Grissom curtly informed her, still trying to calm his wife down. "Doctor Riley Lancing. He just left, you might be able to catch him."

Nick and Greg, stunned at the sight of tougher-than-nails Sara Sidle crying in the hospital bed, curled in tightly on herself. They were also surprised to see their old boss sitting next to Sara, frantically trying to placate the woman. Ray Langston, recovering the quickest, asked for a description of Riley, which Grissom quickly provided. He tugged Greg and Nick to the door and they ran after the doctor, in full blow "cop-mode". They caught up to him in the parking garage, but could do nothing but watch the young man drive away in an old black mustang bearing a license plate that was too faded for them to even read properly.

After cursing loudly, the three men dejectedly walked back to Sara's room, where the brunette was still in pieces. After Nick, Greg, and Langston had disappeared after the suspect, Catherine had approached the couple and tried to help Grissom pull Sara from her trapped memories.

"Sara," she softly intoned. "You're safe now. Nobody will hurt you. The boys are tracking him as we speak. And now we know who we're looking for. We'll get him Sara. It's okay, it's almost all over."

But words could not soothe the terror charging through Sara's body. Like a movie played on a loop, the images and memories of Riley danced beneath her closed lids. Sweat was pouring down her face as her body trembled, and all of her injuries were making themselves apparent as she tried to further curl into a ball.

"Sara, honey, please," Gil pleaded. "Cath, call a nurse."

At that request, Sara uttered a low moan negating his order. She hated the feeling of being sedated, and when she was, the memories would be inescapable. Sara worked hard to push the images into the recesses of her mind as she clawed her way back to reality. When she did, she saw two pairs of blue eyes looking down at her. Sara only had eyes for the most frantic azure orbs, but they were also the most gentle and loving and welcoming.

"I'm okay," Sara mumbled, as she focused on those eyes.

Still shuddering from the unwanted and rapid onslaught of images, Sara focused on relaxing various parts of her body.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, embarrassed at her extensive show of vulnerability. "That was...I'm sorry."

Grissom gently crushed her to him and whispered fiercely in her ear, "You have _nothing_ to apologize for, Sara."

A small cough from the doorway started the trio. Nick, Greg, and Langston repeated the escape of Riley, but as soon as they reassured Sara that she was safe and that Riley Lancing wouldn't haunt the city of Las Vegas for much longer, they were on the phone with Jim Brass, explaining the situation. Understandably, Brass was upset that nobody had bothered to inform him of what was going on until now, but he passed along the description of Riley and his car to all of the police officers.

"It'll be okay Sara," Nick told her soothingly. "We'll get him, don't worry."

With that, the three men left and Catherine followed suit, leaving Sara and Gil alone.

"Gil, I want to go home," Sara whispered pleadingly. "I just want to go home."

Grissom nodded and caressed her cheek. He then migrated his hand down the curve of her neck until his palm was cupped around the delicate skin.

"I'll go and see what I can do."

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

Hours had passed and Riley was still driving around the city. Via the police scanner that used to be his father's, he heard about all of the searching that was going on to apprehend him. He knew he couldn't go to his house, because the police would have gotten the address from his file at the hospital. Nor could he go to the house that his father had left him because it was still a crime scene. The only other option was to go to the little wooden cabin nestled on the outskirts of Lake Mead that he used to visit as a kid. But that was over thirty miles southeast and he wanted to have Sara with him before making the trip.

So, Riley stocked up on supplies. He gathered food and clothes that he and Sara would need. He found his video camera and laptop. He topped the tank of his car off with gas. He found a map of the area and quickly highlighted the fastest route to Sara's home. He knew it would be difficult to get her, but he enjoyed a good challenge.

He also knew that Sara was due to be released that day, and she probably already was on her way home. He figured he could chance a drive by her townhouse. There was an unmarked police car and two officers standing guard around the building. Passersby were glancing warily at them, unsure of the significance of their presence. And then he saw it; a car that he recognized as department-issued was parked in Sara's spot.

Riley drove around the block and parked across the street from the townhouse, making sure he would be able to get Sara to the car without drawing too much attention to himself. He grabbed his gun and filled it with bullets before throwing a few spares into his jeans pocket. He then twisted on the gun silencer, grateful that his father owned one at all. He pulled his hood up and kept his head down – without a doubt, the public had been given his physical description – as he walked towards the police officers, his revolver tightly gripped him his right hand, which was hidden in the long sleeve of his too-big sweatshirt.

Passing beneath a flickering lantered, Riley made his way towards Sara. Hopefully the cover of night would aid his mission. And as he expected, the officers stopped him. They were about to ask him what business he had with this townhouse when he took out the gun and fired a shot at each cop, hitting them both in the chest, before moving towards Sara's place. Although muffled, the shots were still audible and he prayed that they had not startled Sara, or alerted her husband to his presence.

A little less confidently, he walked to the door but – grateful that they had no peek hole – knocked assuredly. After a few seconds, he heard footsteps, and then a hesitation before the door cracked open. He saw Sara's husband standing there. Fear was plain in the man's blue eyes, but there was also a determination Riley was surprised to find.

He heard Sara ask her husband who was at the door. Riley's heart fluttered lightly in his chest as ecstasy from just hearing her voice coursed through his veins. His confidence and determination were rapidly returning and, before Grissom could snap the door shut, Riley raised the gun and felt his finger squeeze the trigger.

* * *

**A/N 2:** I know, I'm evil, sorry. An update will occur soon, I promise this time!


	10. Chapter 10

**From Paris With Love:**

**Chapter 10:**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing...I just like playing with the cast members.

**Spoilers**: Anything that has aired in the US is fair game.

**Summary**: Grissom comes back to Vegas after receiving terrifying news concerning his wife. GSR

**A/N**: Hey, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and that it was posted quickly enough for your liking. And I apologize for any grammatical errors that may be contained within this chapter.

* * *

It hadn't taken long to get the approval and release forms that would permit Sara to go home. Her injuries were not life threatening and, albeit slowly and gingerly, she was able to walk short distances. When the forms were signed and she was given the "okay", the IV was taken out of her arm and the heart rate monitor was removed as well. Once free from all of the machines, Sara eased her way out of the bed.

"Careful," Gil murmured, his hands hovering near her body in case she needed his aid.

Sara smirked at him and, on her own volition, stood on wobbly legs. She sharply sucked in a quick breath as fire flared through her core, a combination of the stitches – which she was still getting used to – and the cracked ribs.

"I'm fine," she hissed before her husband could get the chance to voice his worries. "Just a bit tender still. I'll get used to it."

With her clothes in hand – the ones Catherine had brought to the house in which she had been found – Sara made her way to the bathroom. When Grissom made an attempt to follow her, Sara smiled stiffly and said, "I'm fully capable of dressing myself, thank you. I'll holler if I need you."

Reluctantly, Gil allowed his wife to shut the door behind her. He was a little hurt by her rejection, but figured she needed this. She needed the opportunity for some small measure of normalcy and independence, and if dressing herself provided that, he would sure as hell allow it.

He was about to call Catherine to get a ride home when a knock on the door startled him. He shuffled to the door and found Jim Brass smiling in the hall.

"Long time no see," Brass said with a smile that crinkled the skin beside his eyes. "Sorry we never were able to meet up and have that barbecue cookout after you left, but I was sure you were in good hands."

Grissom smiled at his friend and shook the detective's hand. After the pleasantries, Brass's face grew somber as he asked, "How is she?"

With a sigh, Gil glanced at the still-shut bathroom door and told him, "She's still a bit shaken-up. But that's to be expected. I'm assuming it will be better once your guys arrest the doctor. How is that coming, by the way?"

Jim shrugged unhelpfully and reassured the man that they would get him.

"Well, whenever you two are ready, her car is in the parking garage."

Brass handed him the keys, and, after the puzzled expression Grissom gave him, Jim chuckled and told him that he had been able to track down Sara's car and drove it to the hospital so the couple could go home.

"How are you getting out of here?"

"Hey, come on," Brass said, "I can handle myself just fine. But I gotta get going...there's a rapist to catch. And for Sara's protection, I have two guys already stationed at your place and they won't move an inch until this Lancing guy is in our custody."

Grissom thanked him, deeply touched by the effort. With a parting smile and handshake, Jim left the room. Glancing at his watch, Gil grew worried: Sara had been in the bathroom for nearly ten minutes. Hesitantly walking to the closed door, he raised his hand and knocked tentatively and called, "Sara, honey, are you alright?"

He chuckled at her obviously frustrated reply of "Yeah," and moved his hand to the knob. He was about to twist it when it opened from the other side. Sara let out a started yelped and clutched at her ribs after jumping backwards. Grissom's hands fluttered over her body as he apologized profusely.

"It's alright," she said with a chuckle. "I just didn't expect you to be that close."

"Are you alright? You were in there for awhile."

Sara pursed her lips in annoyance and huffed out a breath before explaining that her injuries necessitated slow movements.

"So, are you ready to go dear?"

He pulled her car keys out of his pockets and settled his hand on the small of her back. Sara sighed as she relished the feeling of the heat of his palm bleeding through the fabric of the huge sweatshirt and to her skin. Unconsciously, she shifted closer to him and the duo slowly made their way to the door and down to the car.

As she settled herself into the passenger's seat, a sudden realization dawned on her.

"Hey, how did you get my car?"

Her husband smiled enigmatically at her. At Sara's glare, he surrendered and said, "Jim brought it over. He found it at that bar you, Greg, and Ray had been at."

Sara's lips formed an "_Oh_" and she contented herself to sit quietly for the remainder of the ride. Grissom's hand and never left hers throughout the short trip. They sat in a comfortable silence and took pleasure in the simple intimacy of the moment. Gil's fingers gently caressed the back of her hand. Sara smiled as his thumb gently brushed over her wedding band, seemingly unthinkingly, before continuing its ministrations of her hand.

Before too long, they reached the townhouse, where an unmarked police car was parked and two officers sat within it. Sara squinted her eyes at them and then glanced towards her husband, the question written on her face.

"Brass sent them here," Grissom supplied as an answer. "We don't know if Riley Lancing will come after you again, but, just as a precaution, the officers will be here until he's caught."

Sara was about to protest, but Grissom silenced her by placing his index finger on her lips and saying, "We're all just worried and want to keep you safe. Now come on dear, let's go inside."

Sara reluctantly relinquished her grip on his hand. She opened up her door and wiggled her way off of the seat, uttering a few colorful curse words as pain shot through her body. Taking a moment to allow her body to be used to standing straight, Sara closed her eyes and took in slow, deep breaths.

She was suddenly very aware of a warm hand snaking between her side and arm. A smile tugging the edges of her lips, Sara opened her eyes and gripped her husband's proffered arm as they shuffled towards their home.

"Thank you," Sara murmured when they were inside, pressing her lips appreciatively to her husband's.

Gil beamed down at her.

"You're welcome, my dear," he said, squeezing her hand lightly. "So, would you like to lie down?" At her glare, he revised. "Maybe eat something? Sit on the couch and watch a movie?"

Sara grimaced and said, "I've been laying in a hospital bed for far too long. I'm going to get a shower."

With that, she left his side and ambled towards their master bathroom. Grissom squinted his eyes after her, his heart heavy. Perhaps he was reading too much into nothing, but it seemed to him that she was distancing herself from him. He had expected that in the hospital – right after the attack – but she had been doing so well at letting him in, only to shut him out when they got home?

Gil rubbed the edges of his mouth with the pads of his fingers as he deliberated whether or not to follow her. One part of him knew that when Sara wanted her space, it was often best to give it to her. But a tiny portion of his mind – and his heart – screamed at him to follow her because distance would make her progress move slowly. He sighed and slowly wandered towards the closed bathroom door. The water wasn't running yet.

He was about rap his knuckles against the door when he heard an odd sniffling noise coming from within. His heart ached and dropped into his stomach as he recognized the all-too-familiar sound. Sara was crying. But from the sound of it, she wasn't in any physical pain.

Gil slowly opened the door and what he saw inside broke his heart. His wife was standing, in her bra and underwear, in front of the full-length mirrors. Her left arm was wrapped around herself and she was leaning against the wall for support as her right hand gently traced all of the markings on her body.

Personal space be damned, Grissom walked to his wife and gently wrapped his arms around her shaking frame. She started, and quickly moved as if to hide herself from him, and her actions made his heart squeeze even more tightly in his chest. He held her firm and planted a kiss on her bare shoulder, just above a particularly nasty bruise, and Sara stopped squirming.

"Gil, please," she whimpered. "Just leave me alone."

He shook his head and whispered, "No, Sara."

Sara dropped her head but Grissom spun her around so that she was facing him. He cupped his hand around her jaw and gently forced it upward so that she could look into his eyes.

In her brown orbs, Gil saw the fear and the self-consciousness, and his heart ached. In his blue orbs, Sara saw the pure, unconditional love, and she flushed red. No man had ever looked at her like that before, or made her feel as wanted and loved as she did now. Even though her skin was more purple and blue than a pale cream color, Gil looked at her as if she were the only woman in the world.

"I love you, Sara," he murmured, brushing his lips against her forehead as he brought her close to him in a warm embrace. "You're still so beautiful to me."

More tears prickled her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his waist and returned the hug. They stood there for an immeasurable length of time, just holding each other and relishing the closeness.

"I love you, too," Sara breathed against his shirt.

Grissom smiled as his insides tingled. No matter how many times she said those three words, they always warmed him from the inside out. He sighed in contentment before he moved the two of them towards the shower. He turned the hot water on and peeled his clothes off. At Sara's quizzical expression, Gil smiled and said, "I've been without a shower just as long as you have been."

Sara smirked at him and hesitantly stripped herself naked. Shyly, she moved towards the shower and extended her hand to her husband, who willingly took it. The two stepped under the hot spray and allowed the hot water to wash over them, the muscles relaxing upon contact.

Grissom tenderly ran the soapy washcloth over his wife's sore skin and they both inhaled the familiar lavender scent Sara was particularly partial towards. Once lathered, he guided her under the spray and rinsed the suds off whilst trailing his fingers over her body. She sucked in a breath, and Grissom searched for signs of distress, and, though he found none, asked, "You okay?"

Sara opened her eyes and smiled softly as she nodded. Grissom grinned and pressed his lips to hers. Sara slipped her hand around the back of his neck and deepened the kiss, allowing the hot water to trickle down both of their bodies, rinsing away the tension and the worry.

After their joined shower, the duo emerged a half hour later, freshly washed and clothed. Sara smelled refreshingly like jasmine-infused lavender – her favorite body wash – and coconut with a very faint tang of citrus, her favorite shampoo. She was still warm from the shower, and her skin still felt the familiar warmth of her husband's hands. The feeling of his hands entangled in her hair had been sorely missed.

They both were dressed in comfortable clothes, but Sara was donned in more loose-fitting articles that she had borrowed from her husband: her raw body could only support the large articles of clothing that Gil owned.

"Breakfast?" Gil inquired.

Sara nodded and followed him to the kitchen. He put on hot water for tea before he gathered the necessary materials for a breakfast of pancakes. Unable to help himself, Gil chuckled at the lack of food in the kitchen; he was barely able to scrape together the proper ingredients for pancakes. He made a mental note to visit the grocery store later and stock up.

"Have you been eating well enough, dear?" Grissom asked nonchalantly as he went about making the food.

"Sure, why?"

Gil smirked at her and waited for Sara to tell him the truth. She flushed red in embarrassment as she realized she'd been caught.

"Well, you know how work is..." she trailed off loftily, hoping he would be satisfied with that answer.

He sighed but let the conversation drift to simple nothingness as he whipped together the batter as Sara moved to make tea. Although Grissom voiced his opinion that she should remain seated, Sara's curt reply that she needed to get used to moving around, lest she become stiff, silenced him. She set his cup of steaming tea at the seat beside her on the breakfast bar counter before she clambered onto the high stool.

"_Bon appétit, ma s__hèr__e_," Gil said his richly deep voice as he slid her a plate of pancakes topped with strawberries and drizzled lightly with honey, for there was no syrup in the kitchen.

Sara beamed brightly at him. She had always loved when he spoke French to her, and he had often used that to his advantage when she visited him in Paris. He smiled at her and was about to sit down next to his wife when he was startled by three sharp raps upon the door. He sigh heavily and heard Sara scoff as well. They just wanted to be left alone.

Grissom brushed his fingers across her hand with a quick, "I'll be right back," before he meandered towards the door. He raked his fingers through his still-damp curls and reached for the knob. He hesitated. He was sure that the police officers outside would only permit a friend of theirs to approach their house...

He slowly cracked open the door and the face he saw stopped his heart cold. A young man standing just shy of six feet was before him and had his hood pulled over his head, but the hood didn't conceal the dark wisps of hair that had flopped onto his forehead. Brilliant jade eyes shone through the almond-shaped slits of his eyelids. His mouth was set in a fiercely determined grimace.

"No," Grissom breathed.

"Gil," he heard Sara call, "who is it?"

He saw Riley's face light up in pleasure, and he was consumed with rage. This pervert would not touch his sweet, beautiful wife again. Gil swiftly moved to snap the door back into place when he saw the metallic glint of a hand-held revolver. Fear coursed through his veins – not for his own life, but for Sara's, who was still sitting on the stool in the kitchen, eating her breakfast.

Grissom wasn't even aware at first of the sharp, ripping sensation in his right shoulder, but only of stopping Riley from entering the home. He had heard the popping sound of the gun being fired, but didn't know he had been hit until he heard Sara cry out.

"Gil!"

"Sara, get back," he ordered sternly, throwing his weight against the door. "And call the police!"

Riley had his foot wedged into the door, thus keeping it from properly shutting. Weakened now from the bullet wound in his shoulder, Grissom's strength did not match Riley's, who soon busted his way into the home.

"Hi sweetpea," he murmured to Sara, offering her a sultry smile.

"No," Sara gasped, rushing towards her fallen husband. "Gil!"

Grissom was on all fours on their hardwood floor, blood dripping down from his wound. His limbs were shaking as he tried to stand, but Sara forced him to stay on the floor as she was on the phone with the 911 dispatcher, pleading with them to get here sooner.

"Sara, I'm talking to you!"

Riley approached the couple, but his eyes were only on the frantic brunette. Intolerant of her non-existent response to him, Riley grabbed her arm sharply and moved to yank her to her feet. His fingers, imprinting sharply upon her tender skin, elicited a hiss of pain from Sara, and Riley instantly let go. He never meant to hurt her...

He tried to fumble out an apology but Grissom snarled, "Get away from her!"

Riley sneered at the man and then turned his attention back to Sara, who was huddled behind Grissom, petrified. She was attempting to keep her distance from Riley while trying to aid her husband.

"Come, sweetpea," Riley coaxed, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a syringe. "Here, this'll help."

"No, no, no, no, no," Sara whimpered, scrambling away from Riley, but to no avail.

She felt the prick of the needle in her arm and the room began to spin as her eyes felt heavy. She heard her husband's angry yells of protests and she vaguely saw him launch himself at Riley. But he was easily thrown back to the floor in a grunt of pain.

"Gil," Sara muttered, her speech slurred. "Please, Riley, don't hurt him."

She felt Riley's fingers tracing her cheekbone as he murmured, "Never, sweetpea."

Forcing her eyes to stay open long enough to see Riley inject drugs into Gil's arm as well, Sara's hand sluggishly reached out until it hit warm, familiar flesh. She interlocked her fingers with her husband's and gave it a weak squeeze. Brown eyes met blue eyes and locked on each other, and both sets portrayed the raw fear they both felt. Sara couldn't keep her eyes open any longer, and she finally succumbed to the blackness.

* * *

**A/N 2:** Thanks again for reading, and I hope you review. I love reading them. And I'm sorry that this chapter didn't expand much on last chapter, but at least you know Grissom isn't dead. Have a great day!


	11. Chapter 11

**From Paris With Love:**

**Chapter 11:**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing...I just like playing with the cast members.

**Spoilers**: Anything that has aired in the US is fair game.

**Summary**: Grissom comes back to Vegas after receiving terrifying news concerning his wife. GSR

**A/N**: I hope you like this chapter! Let me know if you did or didn't, and any suggestions you may have. Thank you! And sorry for mistakes...I haven't had anyone look this over.

* * *

Hours later, Grissom groggily awoke in a brightly-lit white room. He heard the beeping of monitors beside him and felt the lumpy mattress beneath him and the scratchy sheets on top of him. He smelled the familiar cleanliness of the room, and breathed a sigh of relief. It had all been a dream, and he was back with Sara in the hospital. He reached out to touch his wife, but his hand met nothing but air. His arm flailed, trying to reach for Sara, and a sharp pain stabbed through his right shoulder.

His heart rate increased drastically as his stomach coiled into knots. Opening his eyes, his fears were confirmed; he was alone in the bed. The memories came rushing back: Riley had broken into their home and taken her. He had drugged Sara before Riley drugged him as well. He remembered how terrified Sara looked just before she slipped into unconsciousness.

_"Gil," she murmured thickly, the drugs already taking effect. "I'm scared."_

_He couldn't let her know how frightened he was too. He forced a soft smile and squeezed her hand gently and told her that he loved her. He then saw that Riley was about to inject him, and Sara saw too. She moaned in protest and begged for Riley not to hurt him._

_"Never, sweetpea," Riley had soothed her._

_Sara had taken his hand in both of hers and they locked eyes before hers closed. His heart had been pounding fiercely in his chest as his shoulder throbbed painfully. His eyes closed as the drugs began working through his system. Suddenly he lost the warmth of Sara's hand in his own and he forced his eyes open. Riley had picked up Sara and was cradling her close to his chest. Fearing for his wife's life and safety, Grissom called out to Riley, who had turned and looked harshly down at the fallen man. Grissom peered into those hard green eyes and begged, "Riley, please. Don't hurt her."_

_The man softened and pain tore through his facial features. Riley glanced down at the unconscious woman in his arms and he unconsciously held her more tightly to his body as he murmured, "I had never meant to."_

Grissom was jarred back to the present and had couldn't seem to catch his breath. He tried to sit up, but a gentle hand restrained him.

"Whoa, there, Gil. Take it easy."

He spun his head and was looking at Catherine – who had her hand on his chest – and Brass. They both looked anxious and somber and exhausted all at once.

"Sara," Grissom gasped. "Where is Sara?"

Neither the CSI or the detective could meet his piercing blue gaze, and Gil's stomach dropped.

"Oh, no. No!" he moaned, moving to get out of the bed.

"Gil, stop," Catherine soothed gently. "We'll find her...you need to rest."

"I'm fine," he snapped. "Sara's not...Riley has her, damn it! How the hell did he just waltz up to our house?"

Brass placed a calming hand on Grissom's uninjured shoulder and waited for the man to meet his gaze. When he finally did, Jim explained, "Lancing shot the two officers that were standing guard. With them out of the way, he moved to you guys. But I have to ask...didn't you hear those gunshots?"

Grissom was stunned into silence and instead shook his head back and forth before muttering that Riley had a gun silencer. Brass nodded in understanding and clapped his friend on the back, murmuring, "We'll find her Gil. For now, get your shoulder looked at. The doc removed the bullet...you were lucky it missed all major arteries. You should be out of here in no time. There isn't much we can do now but wait. We're all looking into any place that Riley could have taken her. Just be patient, which I know is easier said than done."

"Sara doesn't have that kind of time," Grissom whispered, massaging his temples with the pads of his fingers while the fear and anxiety clawed at his insides.

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

The last thing Sara remembered was holding her husband's hand and looking into his beautiful blue eyes. She remembered that Riley had drugged her; with what, she had no clue. He had also drugged Gil. But now she awoke in a dark room on a foreign mattress.

_Déjà vu_, she thought wryly to herself. But at least she was fully clothed and didn't appear to have any more injuries. Her head was pounding though, and her mouth was very dry. She groaned as she lifted herself to a sitting position and looked around: she was in some sort of basement-turned-bedroom. The walls were a gentle blue color and had pictures hanging on the wall. They all depicted an adorable little boy throughout the progression of his life. Upon closer inspection, Sara was shocked to see that the boy was Riley, from infant to young adult.

She suddenly jumped when she saw a movement beside the bed.

"_¿Señora, estás bien?_"

Groggy and slightly confused, Sara tried to make sense of it all. That man was certainly not Riley. Sara blinked heavily and tried to clear her vision. She looked at the man, whom she vaguely recognized. He was burly but had a baby face and gentle dark eyes. His hair was pitch black and was gelled into a spiky disarray. Where had she seen him before?

When the stranger received no reply, he said, in half-broken English and with a heavy Spanish accent, "_Señora_, are you okay?"

Sara nodded slowly and asked, "Who – who are you?"

The man looked around timidly and then replied, "I am Carlos. You are Sara, no?"

She nodded and suddenly something in her brain clicked.

"Hey, you're the bartender," she said slowly. "_You_ slipped those drugs into my drink, didn't you?"

Carlos heaved a great sigh before nodding and ducking his head, ashamed. Sara expected to feel angry, even a bit scared, but all she felt was a sort of sadness and pity for the man.

"I never meant for this to happen," Carlos whispered. "Riley said he knew you and that the drugs would just make you feel good and that, with them, you two would have a good time. I don't even know what he gave to me to give to you. But he is a doctor and a friend, so I trusted him. I am so, so sorry _señora_. Forgive me, _por favor_."

Sara sighed and could not stay upset at this man. He truly seemed repentant and very sorry. His body language told the story. He had his arms wrapped around his middle and his head was still bowed, as through in prayer. He was bouncing his leg up and down nervously and he was licking his lips, also a nervous habit. He was breathing quickly, his heart rate having been elevated due to the intense anxiety coursing through him. And Sara was sitting on the lumpy, uncomfortable mattress, unconsciously stroking her raw wrists, watching him. The handcuffs that were restraining her to the bed were also cutting into her skin. She turned to face Carlos, who had returned to keeping a silent vigil by her bedside.

"Hey, Carlos," she said softly, smiling at him. "Do you think you could take these off of me? Please, they're hurting me."

Carlos chewed on his bottom lip, debating with himself. Riley had told him to keep Sara safely on the bed and to keep her as comfortable as possible. But he had also said that Sara wouldn't be safe if she was unleashed. She would try and get away.

"I'm sorry, _señora_," he said, "but I promised Riley I would keep you here."

"But I won't go anywhere, I promise," Sara insisted. "I just...I don't like being restrained like this. Please?"

He sighed and looked around the room before approaching Sara, a key in his hand. Sara smiled as he freed her. But she didn't run, figuring that he would be able to catch her and overpower her even if she tried. She didn't want any more injuries to occur to her already bruised body.

Her hands fell to the bed, and she instantly curled up and wrapped her freed arms around her knees. She thanked him and grinned. Carlos returned her smile and then transferred the key back to his pocket. Sara caught the metallic glint of something other than the key when his hands reemerged. There was a golden band on Carlos's left hand, on his fourth finger.

Sara stared at it curiously. She cocked her head to the side and asked, "Carlos, are you married?"

He caught her gaze and then looked down to his ring. He unconsciously caressed the metal with his thumb and smiled distantly.

"_Sí señora_," he whispered. "María. But she is still _en México_. I came up here to find work so she can have good life. But life here in America is hard and it is taking a while for me to build good life for her. I miss her every day I am here and she is there."

Sara sighed and said, "Yeah, I know what you mean." At Carlos's confused glance, she elaborated, "For the past year and a half, I have been living here in Vegas while my husband has been in Paris, France. It really is hard to be away from the ones you love. How long have you two been separated?"

Carlos wrung his hands and murmured, "Nearly one year. But I talk to her every night on the phone. She is a very patient woman, but I am not a patient man. Where she lives, it is dangerous. Drug dealers are everywhere and I always fear for her life. That why we are trying to build a future here in America."

Sara smiled sadly and said, "I'm sorry that Riley has forced you into this, Carlos. But, you know, you can escape this, unscathed, if you allow the police to help us. Please, my friends will make sure that nothing will happen to you, or to your wife."

Carlos shook his head sadly and said, "I'm sorry _señora_, but I cannot. Riley will kill my María...he knows the people who live near her and they will hurt her."

"But you can go to prison for helping Riley!" Sara exclaimed desperately. "Then there will be no way to help María move to the United States. Please Carlos, we can help you. Just let my friends find us. Just tell me where we are and I can call them. They will be grateful for your help and won't prosecute you. Please!"

He shook his head and looked apologetically at Sara. Her heart dropped as he, again refused, saying, "I wish I could _señora_, but even I do not know where we are. Riley drove me and, part way through the trip, I got really sleepy and passed out."

Sara sighed dejectedly. She then was confused. Carlos described the feeling of being drugged, but if he was working with Riley, then why would he drug Carlos.

"Carlos, did Riley inject anything into your arm?" she asked slowly. At his negative shake of the head, she pressed, "Well, did he give you anything to drink?"

Carlos nodded and said, "We stopped for coffee. Riley went in to get it and told me to stay in the car with you."

Sara nodded. She then licked her lips and tried to puzzle a way out of their predicament. If neither of them knew where they were, it would be very difficult to be found. Suddenly, a new idea popped into her head.

"Well, Carlos, if we can't get out of here, can I at least call my husband to let him know that I'm okay?" she begged. "If Maria was with a stranger, wouldn't you want to know that she was safe?"

Carlos looked pained as he looked at his cell phone. Riley had told him not to let her do anything but sit on that mattress, and he had even bent that rule but taking the restraints off. But he did know that if his wife was taken from him, he would want her to call him so that he would know she was safe and well. He swallowed hugely and then tentatively handed her the small cellular device.

Sara smiled brightly and thanked him, brushing her fingers across his hand as she took the phone. She prayed that they had service, and was in luck. She also prayed that she would be able to stay on the phone long enough for Archie to trace her location. Dialing the familiar number of the audio/visual tech, Sara drummed her fingers against her thigh as she waited for him to pick up.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard him answer his phone. Sara could hear the stress in his voice; no doubt the whole lab knew that she was missing. Hell, she had no doubt the whole county did.

"Hey, it's me," Sara said, purposely being vague; she couldn't let Carlos know that she wasn't talking to her husband. "I, uhm, just called to let you know that I'm okay."

"Sara!" she heard Archie exclaim.

In the background, she heard a lot of rustling and yelling before the only voice in the world she wanted to hear spoke her name. Tears filled her eyes as she heard her husband ask if she was okay and if she knew where she was.

"I'm okay, Gil," she whispered, "but I don't know where I am."

Grissom heard the tears in his wife's voice and his heart clenched painfully in his chest. He began to soothe her, telling her that Archie was tracing the call.

"Honey, you need to stay on the line as long as possible," he murmured gently. "Is Riley there with you?"

She shook her head. Realizing her husband couldn't see her, she told him that he was not. She told him about Carlos and how he was taking good care of her. She assuaged his fears that she had been sexually assaulted again and she her heart grew lighter as Gil told her that they had discovered her location and could be there within a half hour. She smiled through her tears and whispered, "I love you."

Her husband returned the sentiment and Sara would have been content to just talk to him about nothing until he arrived, but a commotion cut their conversation short.

"_Señora, señora_!" Carlos yelled. "Give me the phone! Riley is back! _Rápido, señora!_"

Sara cursed and was unable to answer her husband's frantic questions before she snapped the phone shut, terminating the call. She thrust the silver instrument back into Carlos's quivering palm.

"Delete the number!" Sara hissed as the doorknob jiggled.

Carlos did as he was told and then moved to place the phone in his pocket when the door opened, bathing the room in light. Riley was standing in the doorway, bags in his arms.

"Carlos, I told you to keep her restrained to the bed!"

Sara curled up into a tight ball on the bed and avoided eye contact with the man as she muttered, "I asked him to take them off. They were hurting me, Riley."

Riley approached Sara and looked at her raw wrists. He apologized to her, and then thanked Carlos for taking the handcuffs off of her. He reached out and stroked Sara's cheek. She trembled and recoiled from his touch, unable to swallow the whimper building in her throat. Riley retracted his hand and his eyes portrayed pain.

"Shh, don't be like that sweetpea," he whispered. "I won't hurt you any more, I promise. Don't be afraid."

While the tears were surfacing and Riley was playing nice, Sara pushed her luck further. She had to keep him away from her for thirty minutes. If she acted scared, maybe he would leave her alone.

"I want to go _home_," she cried, burying her face in her knees.

Riley was at her side in an instant, making Sara cringe. She shuddered as he wrapped his arms around her and consoled her. He stroked her back soothingly and kissed her temple as he said, "We can be happy together _here_. You'll see. I can make you just as happy. I'll treat you better than that old dog you had before. I'll give you the world, sweetpea, and everything in it. Just say the word, and it's yours. Just give me a chance, please? You'll see."

He rocked her from side to side, whispering in her ear. The closeness made more tears arise, much to Sara's chagrin. The harder she cried, the tighter Riley held her.

"Sweetpea, don't cry," he begged. "It'll all be okay. I brought some food for us. Are you hungry? I know you don't eat meat, so I found some ingredients for a vegetarian lasagna. And some garlic bread. Would you like that, sweetpea? I can have Carlos make us some dinner. We also have wine. Does that sound good to you, sweetpea?"

Sara forced her tears away and put on the best appreciative face she could muster. She smiled and said, "I'd like that. But do you think _you_ could make it? It's much more romantic if a man cooks for his lover."

Riley brightened and smiled at her. He stroked her cheek and then whispered sultrily, "And you're going to have a special treat for dessert."

To make his point, Riley leaned in, cupping her jaw, and kissed her on the mouth. Sara tried not to be repulsed, and returned it, playing her part perfectly. She forced her lips to remain turned upwards in a smile until Riley left. When the door closed, Sara cried out and wiped her mouth. Carlos silently handed her a bottle of mouthwash and a paper cup. She rinsed and spat, removing any trace of Riley from her mouth.

"Why are you doing this, _señora_?" Carlos asked, taking the cup from her. "He will just take advantage of you later. You must stop playing to his fantasy."

Sara curled up on the bed and told him, "It takes more than a half an hour for lasagna, and my friends have found out where we are. I needed to give them a chance to get to us, and if him cooking a romantic dinner for me bides us time, so be it."

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**A/N 2**: Have a great day! Hope you liked it, and an update should be up soon.


	12. Chapter 12

**From Paris With Love:**

**Chapter 12:**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing...I just like playing with the cast members.

**Spoilers**: Anything that has aired in the US is fair game.

**Summary**: Grissom comes back to Vegas after receiving terrifying news concerning his wife. GSR

**A/N**: Thank God for snow and no school! It enabled me to write this chapter. I hope you like it anyway...it's a wee bit shorter than the others, but still. Enjoy!

* * *

Grissom had been released from the hospital a few short hours after he had awoken and realized his wife was missing. The hospital personnel had warned him not to lift heavy objects or to do strenuous labor, and he had agreed, but only so that they would release him.

However, the question was where he could now go. Because his house was now a crime scene, he could not go back there. He would not have wanted to go back there either, because it would be blatantly obvious – and painful – that Sara was not there. The only solution was to go to the lab and wait out the investigation.

"Gil, you know you can't do anything to work the case," Catherine told him on the nearly-silent ride to the crime lab. "You aren't a CSI anymore...and you're personally attached to this one."

But Grissom already knew that, so he just glared at her. No more words were spoken between the two. He was too anxious to make small talk, and, as a result, just he sat there, silently thrumming his fingers against his leg. He felt jittery and nauseated and it took all of his strength to keep the bile from creeping up his throat. He didn't know where Sara was or what Riley was doing to her. He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes, welcoming the blackness.

Within the darkness, he imagined his wife. His Sara. His beautiful, perfect, loving Sara. He visualized her dark mahogany tresses cascading into her oval-shaped face. He saw her bright chocolaty orbs and how they sparkled as her lips gave way to the gorgeous, thousand-watt, gap-toothed grin. He memorized the luxurious arch of her neck that gave way to the soft, delicate curves of her body. His mind's eye traced over the smattering of freckles that formed constellations across the expanse of her shoulders, arms, and neck. He finished his mental image with her legs. Oh, how he loved those legs!

"Gil?"

He was broken from his reverie by Catherine's gentle voice, and his eyes snapped open. He glanced around wildly until he realized they were at the lab. He breathed out a heavy sigh and slid out of the car, mechanically making his way towards the bustling building. Catherine followed, keeping her eyes on the weary man the entire time. She kept her hand partially outstretched towards him as they walked through the lab; Gil looked ready to collapse at any moment.

All of the lab technicians looked incredulously at Grissom, wide-eyed, as he passed through the labyrinth of hallways. It had been two years since they had seen him. But at Catherine's sharp glare, they remained in their glass cubicles and went back to work.

The duo continued their trek to the break room, where the rest of night shift was getting a refill on coffee. Grissom barely registered that a mug was handed to him, but he murmured a "thank you" and mechanically sipped at it, his tongue and throat being scalded by the bitter liquid.

"Okay, how far have you guys gotten on your research of Riley Lancing?" Catherine asked, stirring sugar and cream into her drink.

Greg swallowed his mouthful and said, "Riley Lancing: Caucasian, 28 years old, born on September 16, 1982. That is also Sara's birthday...from all accounts everyone has given about Riley's behavior, it seems that Riley is delusional and thinks that he and Sara are romantically involved, so their shared birth date in particular may give him a sense of deeper connection to Sara."

Grissom's stomach felt as if it was going to heave up the little amount of coffee he had already consumed. Sensing this and seeing the color leave his ex-boss's face, Greg quickly moved on to further findings.

"Uhm, well, he grew up in this area, went to UNLV, graduated at the top of his class," Greg said quickly, scanning over his paper, "yada, yada, yada. He's worked at Desert Palm for about a year now. He had no prior records...clean as a whistle. His mother died when Riley was three, his father died a few months ago and left everything to his son. That house that Sara was first found in originally belonged to his father. That car that Nick, Ray, and I saw him drive away in was also his father's. So, my bet is he also has Sara at a place that used to be his father's as well."

The group became excited, and Grissom was about to demand if they were searching for any more places Mr. Lancing left to Riley when there was a disturbance from Archie in the audio/visual lab area. He was shouting incomprehensively and was running towards the group of CSIs. Catherine looked at the tech, dumbfounded, and was about to rebuke him for his inappropriate behavior but he gasped out, "Sara's on the line!"

The words hit Gil's ears and he set his coffee roughly on the table – some of the lukewarm liquid sloshed onto the table in his haste – and pushed past his seemingly frozen comrades. He rushed ahead of Archie and picked up the telephone receiver, barking at the technician to trace the call, not knowing the man had already begun the tracking system when he first realized it was the missing brunette. Gil put the phone to his ear and breathed out, "Sara?"

His heart hammered in his chest as he heard a sniffling sound on the other end of the line. It seemed to take hours, but finally he heard his wife whimper out, "Gil!"

He began to breathe again as relief coursed through his veins. She was still alive...

"Sweetheart, are you all right?" he asked softly. "Are you okay? Where are you, dear?"

He looked over at Archie, who was signaling to have her keep talking. He nodded and listened as Sara told him that she was fine, physically, but that she had no idea where she was. He noted the raw fear in her voice and he could still hear the tears thickening her voice. He squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temples, wishing he was by her side, as he said gently, "Honey, you need to stay on the line as long as possible. Is Riley there with you?"

Sara paused for a moment before she squeaked out a "no." He relaxed slightly and then was very aware of Archie's presence beside him. On a piece of paper, the lab tech had scribbled an address, how many miles it was from the lab, and an approximate time of arrival if they left at that precise moment. Grissom nodded in thanks and Catherine, who had hovered by Grissom's shoulder throughout the phone call, took the paper.

She was about to walk away when he grabbed her wrist and motioned for her to wait for him. She nodded and told him to hurry up before calling Jim Brass. He returned his focus to his wife and told her the news. She half laughed, half cried with relief before whispering, "I love you."

He beamed, an affect those three words always had on him.

"And I love you, my dear," he murmured into the receiver. He was about to tell her that he had to go but would see her shortly when he heard an Hispanic man yell something to Sara.

"Riley is back!" Grissom heard. "_Rápido, señora_!"

Fear clawed at his stomach and his blood seemed to freeze in his veins. His hand shook as he gasped out, "Sara? Sara, who was that? Where's Riley? Are you alright? Sara!"

Grissom heard his wife swear before the line went dead. He pulled the phone numbly away from his ear and stared blankly at it, terror freezing him to the seat. Catherine looked at him worriedly and gently touched his shoulder, calling his name. He jumped and then stared at the blonde.

"Riley's back," he muttered, and propelled himself out of the chair. "We have to go. _Now_."

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

Sara thrummed her fingers lazily on her thigh as Carlos paced the length of the room nervously. They both cringed each time they heard a noise from upstairs, convinced that Riley was going to come down. Sara wished she had a clock or watch so that she could count the minutes until her husband was due to arrive. She considered asking Carlos for his phone, but the man seemed anxious enough. Besides, she would want to call her husband, and if she did, Riley would surely overhear the conversation, which would not bode well for her.

Sighing, she stretched her legs out from under her and swung them off the side of the bed. She leaned forward until her feet hit the thick, plush carpet beneath her. She braced herself for the soreness that would wash through her when she fully erected herself. She bit her lip, but a hiss managed to escape her mouth. Carlos stopped his pacing and looked towards Sara, concern shining across his face.

"_Señora_?" he asked timidly. "_Qué se duele_? What hurts? _Estás bien_?"

Sara smiled at Carlos, assuaging his fears. She knew he was upset because he had slipped back into a combination of English and Spanish phrases.

"I'm fine," she said, walking over and placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "I just needed to stretch. And I need to use the bathroom...do you know where it is?"

"_Sí_, over there."

Carlos nodded his head vigorously and pointed behind the two of them. Sara saw a door that was ajar and she walked towards it. She was about to enter the bathroom when she said, "I'm also going to shower. So, if Riley asks, that's where I am."

Carlos nodded and advised, "_Señora_, you may want to just stay in there until _tus amigos_ arrive. Stay in there and lock the door. Do not come out until I come and get you...or until _su esposo_ – your husband – comes."

Sara nodded and smiled before thanking Carlos. That had been her plan and was glad that she and her newly-found companion were on the same page. She shut the door and quickly did up the locks. Knowing that she only had a few more minutes until her husband was due to arrive, she figured a quick shower couldn't hurt.

Stripping her clothes, Sara looked for more injuries. Other than the bruise made by the needle and the sores from the handcuffs, she found none. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned on the hot water. There was shampoo and soap already in the shower, and, loathe that she was to smell like a foreign household, she used them. Lathering and rinsing, she was done within minutes. She redressed and followed Carlos's suggestion: she stayed locked in the bathroom.

She was in there for no more than five minutes when a commotion caused her to startle. Riley's angered voice was screaming from upstairs, and she assumed that the police had arrived. Her heart beat wildly in her chest and she began to feel shaky as she pressed her ear against the door. She screeched and jumped when she heard Carlos's voice on the other side of the barrier, warning her to stay inside.

"Carlos!" Riley bellowed, lumbering down the stairs. "Carlos, what the hell did you do? Why are the cops here? Did you call them?"

"No, no, no," Carlos quickly defended, "I no call them. You tell me not to, so I don't. But law enforcement in America _es muy inteligente_ and it is not a surprise that they find you. _Por favor_, do not hurt my María. I did nothing wrong!"

Riley screamed in rage and Sara heard a loud thumping noise and a few colorful curse words and a pained cry from Carlos. Sara whimpered and had her hand on the door knob, wanting to open it to check on Carlos, but wanting to stay hidden from Riley.

"You filthy, incompetent 'spic!" Riley snarled. "Your María has been dead for weeks! Remember when you asked why she sounded different all of a sudden...that was because you were talking to a different lady who sounded close to what your María had sounded like! God damn it!"

Sara's heart seemed to stop beating and the air rushed out of her lungs as if she'd been physically struck. She heard nothing from Carlos and cracked the door open. The man looked lost and crushed as his knees buckled out from under him. Sara cried out and, although her mind screamed at her to stay locked inside the bathroom, she ran towards Carlos.

Kneeling down beside him, she wrapped her arms around his shuddering frame as the man sobbed out his wife's name. Tears prickled Sara's eyes and her heart squeezed painfully in her chest as she whispered, "Carlos, I'm so sorry."

She heard vehicles pulling up on the gravel outside. Riley heard them too and then whipped a gun out of his pocket, freezing Sara with fear. She saw the murderous glint in his eyes as he turned an moved to greet the police and her husband.

"Riley!" she cried out. "Please, stop! Don't do this!"

The deranged man halted his movements and turned to face Sara. Malice lit up his entire face and she was fearful of not only her life, but of all the lives in the general vicinity. Begging would not help, she could see; she was not his "sweetpea" anymore. He was far to agitated for that.

Riley moved again towards the stairs, but cringed when he heard a loud knocking on the door. Moments later, the door was busted down and she heard frantic voices calling her name. Riley turned away from the stairs and back towards Sara and Carlos, who was still sobbing on the floor, muttering brokenly in Spanish.

As the gun-wielding Riley approached the duo, Sara gripped Carlos more tightly. She clenched her eyes tightly shut as she watched Riley's pale hand reach out towards her. The long fingers closed around her wrist and yanked her upwards. She cried out in pain and staggered to her feet, dancing around Carlos's small, curled-up form on the floor.

"Down here!" Sara screamed. "Down stairs! Help!"

Her vision went black as pain seared through her temple. A coldness took up residence against her skull; Riley had hit her with the butt of the gun and now had the barrel to her head. She whimpered as she heard him click off the safety, pressing the gun sharply to her temple.

"Please," she whispered. "Please Riley. Don't!"

"Why?" Riley whispered, but he wasn't referring to her pervious plea. "Why do you not want to be with me? We could have been happy. I would have treated you right. We would have been happy and grown old together, watching our children grow up! Why?"

Sara whimpered as his grip on her strengthened. She would definitely have more bruises after this.

"Why?" Riley sobbed.

The hand holding the gun migrated to her hip where the bottom of her sweatshirt lay. He fingered the fabric, moving it up her body, revealing her bare, bruised skin. Her skin seemed to burn where he touched her and she whined as she wiggled away from him. His hand caught her arm and brought her back to him. He leaned in and inhaled, moaning at the comforting scent. Sara whimpered, wondering where the hell the cops were.

She didn't have to wait long. The door at the top of the stairs banged open and she heard multiple pairs of footsteps sprinting down the steps. The footfalls belonged to Captain Brass, her colleagues, and her husband. A few cops flanked them, and they all had their guns out.

Riley gasped at the large crowd, and maneuvered the gun around so that one hand was still pressed against Sara's stomach and one hand held the gun to her temple again. He shifted his body behind her so that she acted as a shield between the cops and him. In order for them to shoot Riley, they'd have to be shooting at Sara. She trembled against Riley and couldn't blink back the onslaught of tears. She saw her husband's terrified expression, and she heard Brass yell for Riley to let her go.

"Please," Sara begged, almost inaudibly. "Please let me go, Riley."

Instead, he held her more tightly to his body and she felt the gun grind farther into her temple painfully. Involuntarily, she cried out in pain and saw Gil take another step towards her.

"Riley," he whispered, keeping his eyes locked on his wife's tearful brown orbs. "Riley, please let her go. Please give her to me. I promise to take good care of her Riley. Please."

"No!" he yelled, and his finger twitched towards the trigger.

Everybody, all at once, moved towards him, but he took a step back, dragging Sara with him. Sara looked into the eyes of her husband and whispered, "I love you, Gil."

"I love you, too," he mouthed back, unable to force his vocal cords to work.

Her heart hammered against her ribs and, sensing that Riley was about to pull the trigger, closed her eyes. Suddenly, her body was jolted roughly to the floor and two loud bangs pierced through the room. Sara cried out and tried to twist around to discover what had happened. But a warmth enveloped her and she breathed in the familiar scent of her husband.

"Oh, Sara!" he gasped, clutching her tightly to his chest. "Sara...are you all right, dear?"

She nodded and shifted her body to look at the scene before her. A sob got caught in her throat as she saw Riley laying on the floor, his lifeless green eyes staring at her as the blood oozed from the hole in his head. And, beside him, lay Carlos, bleeding from a gunshot wound to the neck.

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**A/N 2**: We are drawing to an end...just another chapter or two and that's it.

I'm debating whether or not to add GSR smut in the end chapter...let me know your thoughts. Have a great day!


	13. Chapter 13

**From Paris With Love:**

**Chapter 13:**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing...I just like playing with the cast members.

**Spoilers**: Anything that has aired in the US is fair game.

**Summary**: Grissom comes back to Vegas after receiving terrifying news concerning his wife. GSR

**A/N**: I hope you like this new installment. We're almost done with this journey.

* * *

The phone call conversation Grissom had just had with his wife was continuously being played in his head, as if on repeat, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not make it stop. He could hear the tears softening – and quivering – her voice and he could almost picture what she would look like: she would have her jaw clenched to try and swallow back the cries; the tears would make her chocolaty orbs darker and more solid; her blinking would speed up as she tried to brush away the moisture; she would be unconsciously biting on her lower lip; her fingers would be tapping against her thigh; her foot would be jiggling with the nerves and anxiety...

And now that Riley was there with her, he had to get moving. Running to Catherine, telling her they needed to go, he held out his hand for the car keys, which landed lightly in his open palm. His fingers curled around the cool metal and he never broke stride. Catherine rushed after him and the rest of the team was following their lead, ready to take another department-issued vehicle.

She had already contacted Brass; the detective, along with a handful of police officers, would meet them at the address. Grissom, uncaring of the many eyes curiously watching him, hurried across the black asphalt and towards the car with Catherine trailing closely behind him. He hopped into the driver's seat, jammed the keys into the ignition, and roared the engine to life. Swiftly buckling, he deftly put the vehicle into gear and flicked on the flashers all in one fluid motion, which would allow him to speed, unobstructed, towards his wife.

Catherine, after also quickly buckling the safety belt across her body, programmed the address Archie had provided into the GPS system that the department only recently installed in every vehicle. An automated feminine voice coolly guided them away from the city and towards Lake Mead. But they weren't going fast enough for either person's liking. Grissom, throughout the entire drive, kept looking at the GPS, which told them their estimated time of arrival. Even though they were getting closer and closer, he felt very far away. Easing his foot more determinedly on the gas pedal, which caused the speedometer needle to inch well over the 80-mile-per-hour hash mark, Grissom flew through the Nevada desert.

The GPS guided them off of the main highway and onto a less-worn path that wasn't even paved. It was narrow – a little more than one lane wide – and Grissom prayed a vehicle wouldn't be travelling towards them from the opposite direction, because there was no way he would slow down and pull over when his wife was so close by.

Luck seemed to be with him, for he made it through the constricted dirt lane without crashing into anything or anyone. The GPS led him to a private stone driveway, and, as Grissom turned onto it, his heart jumped into his throat and he pressed onto the gas pedal a bit more firmly. He heard sirens in the distance, and saw that Nick, Greg, and Langston were directly behind him, as they had been throughout the entire ride. Behind them were a few police cars, their flashers on and their sirens wailing.

Sharply turning around a sudden bend, their final destination came into view. A little log cabin was situated within a thin scattering of trees, and the blue lake peeked through the leafy branches. The shrubbery surrounding the welcoming abode were somewhat overgrown, but not wildly so. All in all, it was a beautiful little vacation cottage.

But Grissom wasn't focusing on the scenery. He threw the vehicle into park and quickly cut the engine before launching himself out of the car. Catherine and the boys followed, as did Brass, who had pulled up moments after they did.

"Stop him!" Brass ordered, watching as Grissom deliberately made his way to the front door, intent upon busting the door down. Nick and Greg, the fastest in the group, quickly caught up to him and grabbed him by the arm, yanking him back. Grissom tried to jerk himself free, but their hold was strong and, seeing as he had an injured shoulder, his attempts were futile. They impatiently waited for Brass to join them. The detective placed his hand on his friend's chest and urged him back before pounding on the front door.

"Riley Lancing!" he shouted menacingly, beckoning for the police officers to approach the front door with the battering ram. "We know you're in here, open the door!"

From within, they heard an angry man yelling, and a muffled cry in response. Everybody recognized the voice as Sara's, and Brass gave the officers the go-ahead to knock down the door. They did so, and Grissom was the first one to push his way inside, calling out his wife's name. Everyone else followed suit, taking their guns out from the holsters on their hips'. The police officers quickly made their rounds around the house, looking for Sara and Riley. When their search turned up empty, a frustrated Grissom lashed out and kicked at a nearby chair.

"Damn it!" he swore, breathing heavily.

His pulse raced in his veins and he paced the short length of the room he was currently in. He squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temples with his fingers as his memories took him back in time a few years. He saw Sara's beautiful face with a small, humorous smirk etched across her lips. They had been knocking down walls, looking for a dead body, while the owner of the apartment watched their laborious struggle. He had gone outside, and Sara had followed. He had explained to her that when his pulse had raised to a certain level, he was extremely angry. After he had ranted about the owner of the apartment doing nothing but watch, Sara had smiled cheekily and quipped, "So what's your pulse at now?"

She had then stroked his cheek tenderly in an effort to calm him. He could still feel the warmth of her palm on his skin and the tingling sensation her fingers had left. That had been the first time she had ever touched him so intimately. He had been a fool to continuously turn her down.

Sighing, Grissom reopened his eyes and was brought back to the present-day scene. He glanced around at the pale yellow walls and whispered to no one, "Sara, sweetheart, where are you?"

He pushed off of the wall he had been leaning against and was about to order the officers to do a more thorough search when he heard his wife's beautiful voice yell, "Down here! Down stairs! Help!"

Grissom, and every other person in the house, immediately searched for a door that would lead them to a basement. Brass located a hidden one that had been camouflaged to blend into the wall and shouted out his findings. He wrenched open the door and began to thunder down the stairs, calling out Sara's name. As he heard her whimper, he forced his feet to move more quickly. What he saw made his heart stop momentarily. Riley, with a maniacal glint in his eyes, had Sara at gunpoint and had his hand up her shirt. He knew Grissom didn't need to see this, and turned to stop the man.

"Gil, stop," he begged, but the older man paid no heed to the detective's plea.

Grissom, having his sights solely on finding his wife pushed his way to the front. He had heard her cries and whimpers, and the protective instinct within him flew into overdrive as he pushed passed the many officers blocking the stairs. He stopped in his tracks when he laid eyes on Sara. Tears were swelling in her eyes and she was standing stiffly, attempting to twist herself free. His heart thundered in his ears as he saw the gun that was pointed at her temple, and he swallowed thickly. He listened and watched helplessly as she begged him to release her. Riley responded by maneuvering his victim in front of him and pressing the gun more tightly to Sara's head, making her cry out. Grissom took and involuntary step towards her and his hand automatically reached out for her.

"Riley," he pleaded desperately, his gaze never leaving the terrified eyes of his wife, "Riley, please let her go. Please give her to me. I promise to take good care of her, Riley. Please!"

"No!" Riley shouted angrily, his finger twitching towards the trigger.

Grissom gasped out a fearful "no" and stepped closer to the duo. Everybody else moved closer too, causing Riley to step backwards. Only then did Grissom realize that another man was in the room. He was Hispanic and crumpled on the floor. As Riley and Sara stepped closer to the man, he looked up at the commotion. Grissom saw the tears that stained his cheeks, and, for a split second, Gil looked pleadingly into the man's dark, gentle eyes before returning his gaze to Sara.

"I love you," she whispered inaudibly.

_No, no, no,_ Grissom begged, _don't you dare say goodbye! I'm not ready for that!_

That was what he wanted to say, but instead, he felt his lips numbly return the sentiment. He watched in horror as Sara closed her eyes and turn her head away from her audience, not allowing them to see her face. Grissom was about to launch himself at Riley, but the man on the floor beat him to it.

It was as if the scene was happening in slow motion. He watched the Hispanic man push Sara to the soft carpet near Grissom's feet and he wrestled Riley for the gun. The gun went off, and the man dropped to the floor, blood seeping out of his neck. Now, since their line of fire was clear, somebody behind Grissom expertly fired a shot, which effectively hit Riley in the forehead, forcing him to fall backwards onto the floor behind Sara.

Gil looked around at the room, his brain not quite up to speed with what had happened. But when his blue eyes honed in on Sara's very still form, his heart thundered in his chest and his knees buckled out from under him. He breathing out Sara's name and his hands fluttered over her body, searching her for an injury, praying the bullet from Riley's and the Hispanic man's struggle didn't hit her. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found no bullet wound. He wrapped his arms around her stunned frame and held her close to him, never wanting to let her go again.

"Oh, Sara!" he gasped out. "Sara...are you all right, dear?"

He felt her nod against his chest before she twisted around. Grissom wanted to shield her from the scene, but she saw it anyway. Riley was laying mere feet away from them and beside them lay the Hispanic who had tried to help them. The sight of the second man caused Sara to choke out a cry and turn her head away from the two bodies. She buried her head in the crook of Grissom's shoulder and threw her arms around him as the tears leaked from her eyes.

"Shh," he soothed, gently stroking her damp hair, "Shh, honey, everything is okay now. You're safe, dear. Who was that man?"

With her head still nestled in the crook of her husband's neck, she muttered out, "Carlos. He was the bartender who had slipped the drugs into my drink the other night, not knowing that he was aiding Riley. But he was the one who gave me his phone so I could call you...so you could find us. He didn't deserve this."

Sara pulled away and looked into his deep blue eyes. She rested her hand against his cheek, not bothered by the extensive crowd around them as they publicly displayed the affection they felt for each other. Grissom leaned into her touch and lifted his own hand to mirror her actions. He cradled her jaw in his palm and stroked the delicate skin with his thumb.

"Thank God," he murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Thank God you're safe."

She breathed out a sigh and whispered, "I could say the same. Are _you_ okay, Gil? How's your shoulder? Have you been to the doctor? What did they say? God, I've been so worried."

He chuckled and said, "I'm fine. The bullet missed all major arteries and the doctors stitched me up and sent me on my way. Not that I would have stayed in the hospital while you were out here somewhere. And speaking of hospitals, you should probably get to one."

She grimaced but at her husband's stern look, nodded. The couple got up off the floor and walked away from the two dead bodies on the floor. Sara clenched her husband's hand as she looked at Carlos, and her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. Grissom squeezed her hand and placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the car he had vacated merely minutes before. Could it have really been only fifteen minutes ago that he had pulled up to the house, desperate to find Sara?

The couple made their way slowly to the awaiting vehicle, which was covered from front to bumper in dust from Grissom's maniacal drive to the summer home. He opened the passenger's side door and helped his wife into the seat. He squeezed her hand before extricating it from her fingers. He quickly made his way to the driver's side and hopped in.

Roaring the engine to life, he buckled the safety belt and waited for Sara to do the same. When she didn't and continued to stare blankly out at the small cabin in which she had been confined to, Grissom gently touched her arm. She jumped and inhaled quickly.

"Sorry, dear," Grissom murmured, "but can you buckle up? Then we can get to the hospital. The faster we get there, the faster we can get home."

Sara nodded and twisted around to grab the strap. The sleeves of the sweatshirt drifted back, revealing her raw and swollen wrists. The injuries did not escape Grissom's notice, and he quickly captured Sara's hand in his own. Sara was about to smile at her husband, thinking he was taking her hand just for the sake of the feeling of skin-on-skin contact. When she saw where his gaze was fixed, she looked down and saw her hurt wrists. Blushing, Sara wriggled her hands so that the sweatshirt material obscured the wounds.

"Sara," Grissom gently intoned, "Honey, what happened?"

She couldn't meet his eyes as she moved her hand away from him. The fabric of the clothing brushed against the raw wounds and she hissed at the uncomfortable, stinging sensation.

"It's nothing," she said through her teeth. "Damn handcuffs."

Grissom was startled by her muttered exclamation, and it felt as if a large chunk of ice dropped into his stomach. He swallowed thickly and squeezed her hand before softly imploring, "Sara...please, did he...were you...what...did Riley...you know..."

Sara snapped her head up to look into her husband's eyes. She saw the raw terror and anger in them and the metaphorical light bulb went off in her head. She smiled at him, quick to assuage his fears, and said, "No, Gil, he didn't do anything to me. Had you and the gang arrived later he would have...but no, I'm fine."

He exhaled loudly and closed his eyes in relief, whispering, "Thank God."

Sara brought their intertwined hands to her lips and pressed a kiss onto the back of Grissom's hand before moving to stroke his cheek. The short stubble on his skin tickled her fingers as he leaned into her touch. When he opened his eyes again, Sara saw the undying, unconditional love for her shining in the deep oceans. She smiled at him and nodded towards the road and questioned, "The hospital?"

He sighed and took his hand out of hers only to place it on her cheek. He stroked the delicate skin and pulled her near him as he leaned over the center console to capture his lips with hers. Sara smiled against his mouth before returning the kiss fully, passionately. They broke apart when the need for air became too prominent, and Grissom retook Sara's hand in his own. He thumbed her golden wedding band and a ghost of a smile flitted across his lips as he affirmed, "The hospital."

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**A/N 2:** Well, there will be only one more chapter. :( So sad. It has been an amazing journey, and everybody has been so kind to me. Thank you so much for making my first story such a success!


	14. Chapter 14

**From Paris With Love:**

**Chapter 14 – Prologue:**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing...I just like playing with the cast members.

**Spoilers**: Anything that has aired in the US is fair game.

**Summary**: Grissom comes back to Vegas after receiving terrifying news concerning his wife. GSR

**A/N**: Well, here it is...the final chapter. I hope you like it. Thank you so much for sticking it out until the end.

* * *

The weeks following Sara's rescue were, in her opinion, dull and repetitive. The doctors had cleared her after she and her husband had gone to the hospital, therefore allowing the couple to go home. She, however, had not been cleared to return to work, and, if Sara was being honest, she didn't feel ready for it. However, the long days cooped up in the townhouse were getting to her.

She wasn't used to her husband being in the same house as her, nor was she used to him hovering. It was exactly how he had acted after Natalie had taken her, and she didn't like it. He was overly protective and did everything for her. Being a headstrong, independent woman, the attention gnawed away at her. As the days turned to weeks, the irritation grew more and more noticeable, even to Grissom.

Sara had fallen into a despondent emotional state, which was scaring her husband. She was often nonresponsive to his inquiries of how she was feeling, and she recoiled from his touches, innocent that they were. All she wanted was to be left alone.

"Hello, dear," he greeted her as she walked through the front door, returning from the doctor's office. She had had yet another check up, this one was with the gynecologist, who had been monitoring her vaginal injuries. "How did it go?"

Sara glanced over to him and forced her lips upward into a half-smile and replied, "Fine," before walking into the kitchen.

From the couch, Grissom sighed and rubbed at his eyes. He set the book he had been reading on the coffee table and removed his glasses before following her. He chewed on his bottom lip as he watched her from the doorway: she was attempting to reach into a cabinet for a jar of peanut butter. She was stretched up onto her tiptoes and her hand was extended upwards, pulling at her midsection, and she gasped as a throb of pain rippled through her ribs. Although the fracture had almost healed, the bones and surrounding muscle were still sore.

"Damn it," she muttered, before reaching up again.

Grissom was at her side in a moment and reached up to help her. Irritation at her helplessness flaring, she stiffened and growled coldly, "I can get it myself."

Stung, Grissom retracted his hand and took a step back. Sara finally reached her prize, and, breathing heavily, leaned against the counter, waiting for her abdomen to stop aching. Grissom narrowed his eyes in concern and gently reached out to touch her shoulder. Her muscles tensed and she kept her eyes firmly on the jar of peanut butter.

"Honey, I only want to help," he whispered softly, brushing his fingers against the skin of her neck. "You're still recovering."

Sara's head snapped up, and Grissom flinched away from the fire he saw in her dark brown irises. He pulled his hand away as she snarled, "I'm not a glass doll, Grissom! I won't break, damn it! Just let me do things for myself...I don't need you constantly hovering by my side, doing every little thing for me! Give me some space! See, this is _exactly_ why I didn't want to call you in the first place! I _knew_ you would get like this! You would come straight to Vegas and do nothing but hover around me and treat me like a goddamn invalid! Jesus! I need some air!"

With that, she roughly slammed the plastic container on the countertop and stormed towards the front door. Shell-shocked, it took Gil a few moments to force his legs to move after her. He reached out and grabbed her arm and held onto it firmly, even as she tried to rip it free.

"Let go of me, Grissom!" she yelled, avoiding all eye contact. "Leave me alone!"

He loosened his fingers and released her as if he'd been burned. She'd used his last name twice within five minutes. She was royally pissed, and he was her target.

"Sara, please," he begged.

She turned and glared at him coldly as she said, "Leave. Me. Alone! Go back to Paris. I'm sure Hank is getting tired of the dog sitter."

Grissom shook his head and said, "He'll be fine with Lucy. But I'm worried about you, You haven't been the same since..."

He let the sentence die as she, again, glared daggers at him.

"Since what?" she yelled.

His temper now flared as well, and he reciprocated her anger by shouting, "Since we found you in that log cabin! Since you were attacked! Jesus Sara, why won't you just talk to me? I love you and I don't want to see you retreat into yourself and shut the rest of the world out! There are so many people who care about you...let us help you! And I'm sorry if you feel suffocated by me, but I am your husband and I vowed to love, nurture, and protect you for as long as we both shall live! It's kind of hard to do that when you block me out!"

Sara threw her hands into the air and muttered, "I can't take this right now! I'm going for a run. I'll see you whenever!"

With that, she stalked out the front door, slamming it unnecessarily roughly behind her. Breathing heavily, Sara took off at a sprint down the walkway and down the street, not seeing where she was going. It was as if her legs had taken on a mind of their own and at the moment, she didn't care. The dark clouds overhead ominously obstructed the sun, making the surroundings appear much too dark for it being the middle of the afternoon.

Sara paid no heed to any of the street signs as her feet pounded across the pavement. The air whooshed in and out of her lungs and she felt nothing but the welcome and familiar breathlessness. Her dark brown curls were swept into a ponytail, but a few tendrils had escaped the confinement and tickled her cheeks. She brushed them back, but they kept falling into her face.

For how long she had been running, she did not know. Her argument with Gil was still in the forefront of her mind, and her heart squeezed painfully in her chest as she recalled how hurt he had looked. He hadn't deserved her wrath. He was only trying to help. She was the one with the problem, and she hated herself for it. She replayed all of the many moments they had shared since she had been found in the cabin. He had been gentle and patient, but she had shut him out. She was a monster.

Tears prickled her eyes, but soon, a different moisture hit her face. Pellets of rain were splashing on her and she cursed. If she knew Vegas, which she did, the heavens would open up momentarily and she would become drenched. She again cursed as her prediction came true. Squinting through the downpour, Sara glanced around, trying to get her bearings. She was startled to find that she was near Catherine's neighborhood, which was a solid ten miles from the townhouse. Sara turned the corner and jogged towards Catherine's house, praying that she would be able to get a ride home from the blonde.

She walked up to Catherine's small home and up to the front door. Raising her hand, she knocked on the door before wrapping her arms around herself. The temperature had dropped and she was soaking wet. The front door opened and a dark-haired teenager was standing in the doorway. Lindsey gasped at the sight of Sara and quickly ushered her inside.

"Mom?" she yelled as she shut the door. "Mom!"

Catherine came rushing in from the kitchen and a look of relief crossed her face as she looked at Sara. Then pity washed over her features and she approached the shivering woman slowly.

"Sara," she breathed, "God, Sara, are you okay? We've all been so worried about you. Gil is frantic. You left your phone at home and he has no idea where you are. Jesus, what on earth happened?"

Sara looked at Catherine through sad eyes, and she chewed on her lip before muttering, "Gil and I had a fight. I went for a run. How long have I been gone?"

Catherine rested her hand on the younger woman's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before murmuring, "Gil first called me over two hours ago, saying you've been gone for over an hour."

Sara scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion. She hadn't realized she had been gone that long. Shrugging apologetically, Sara whispered, "I didn't mean to startle him. I just...I..."

Catherine smiled reassuringly and said, "Well, why don't you go and take a hot shower? I'll throw your clothes in the dryer. For now, you can wear some of my clothes."

Sara followed Catherine to the back of the house to the master bathroom. Catherine rustled around in her closet for clothes that would fit Sara. She finally handed the brunette a large pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt before shooing her towards the bathroom. Sara offered Catherine a grateful smile before closing the door behind her.

Catherine sighed and shook her head as she walked towards her laundry room. Lindsey was standing in the hallway, her arms crossed across her stomach, waiting patiently for her mother to answer some questions. When it became apparent that her mother wouldn't initiate a conversation, Lindsey pressed, "Is Sara okay?"

The blonde smiled at her daughter and said, "I hope so. She's just...confused. She's still dealing with what happened to her, and everything is just piling up. She's overwhelmed."

Lindsey nodded and, judging by Catherine's tone, could tell that her mother would not say any more on the subject.

Minutes later, Sara reemerged, her hair dripping down her back and donned in the clothes Catherine had lent her. Catherine was waiting for her in the kitchen, a kettle on the stove, heating for tea. Lindsey was in the living room, on her cell phone, texting, but was straining her ears to hear the conversation that was sure to come.

"Sit," Catherine said, pointing to the kitchen table and filling a mug with hot tea. "Why don't we have a little chat? Then I'll take you home."

Sara shook her head and muttered, "No, I – I can't face Gil. Not after what I said to him. No."

Catherine patted her friend's shoulder gently as she told her, "Well, I've already called Gil while you were in the shower. He was ready to come here to pick you up, but I told him I'd take you home. He's just worried about you...you probably could have said you wanted a divorce and he would still accept you back at the house. He loves you."

Sara struggled to smile and whispered, "I know. And I love him. I said some very harsh things...half of them, I didn't even mean. I just...Cath, what's wrong with me?"

Sara bowed her head, ashamed, and squeezed her eyes shut against the tears she felt prickling in her eyes. She felt a warm hand wrap around her own as Catherine murmured, "Nothing is wrong with you, Sara. You are still getting over a traumatic experience. Just give it time; Gil will be patient with you. Just talk to him. Don't shut him out, or that will put a strain on your marriage, which would crush Gil if things ended badly. Talk to him, Sara...let him know what you are feeling and how you want him to act. If I know him, he is probably been a worry-wart for the past few weeks, which can be suffocating. I know the man can be clueless, but he loves you more than you could ever know and he will do anything to keep you out of harm's way and by his side."

Sara peered up at Catherine through teary eyes and smiled in thanks. She brushed at her eyes and said, "Thank you, Catherine. I think I really needed to hear that."

"Any time, Sara," Catherine said, silently sipping her drink.

The pair sat in silence for a few minutes before Catherine suggested going home. She saw the flicker of unease flash through Sara's brown eyes, and she smiled reassuringly.

"One way or another, you'll have to face Gil," Catherine whispered. "He's anxious to see you, and I wouldn't be surprised if he drives here himself to whisk you away if we stall any longer."

Sara took a deep breath and nodded, placing her empty mug in the sink. Catherine gave Sara her clothes back before following the brunette to the door and to the car before driving her friend home.

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

Grissom was staring at the front door, which had just been harshly slammed shut by his wife. He sighed and cursed himself; he should not have lost his temper with Sara. Although everything he had said to her had been true, Sara didn't need to hear that, especially in her still-fragile condition.

He paced back to the kitchen to call Sara, but stopped dialing when he saw her phone lying on the counter. He cursed. He needed to apologize, but would now have to wait until she returned home.

So, he sat on the couch and waited for her, checking the clock every five minutes. When Sara was this upset, she was usually gone for about thirty minutes, an hour at most. When an hour came and went, he grew concerned, especially since the heavens had opened up and rain was pouring from the sky. What if she had fallen and hurt herself? What if she was lost? What is somebody had taken her again?

_Oh, God_, he thought, pushing that last thought to the side. He didn't even want to think about that possibility. Instead, he picked up the phone and called all members of the CSI team, hoping she was with one of them. His heart sank when each and every one of them said they hadn't seen her.

"Gil, I'm sure she'll turn up," Catherine soothed. "But everyone is driving around, looking for her. She can't have gotten too far...just be patient."

"Damn, Catherine," Grissom growled, "Sara is missing, _again_, and you tell me to 'be patient'?"

Catherine sighed and said, "She'll turn up Gil. Let her blow off some steam."

With that, Catherine had hung up, leaving Grissom anxious and jittery. One hour turned into two, then three. As he approached the fourth hour, Gil was absolutely terrified. Nobody had seen Sara, and Brass and his police officers hadn't spotted her anywhere in the area. He was about to go out and search for her on his own when his home phone rang. Sprinting to it, he breathed out, "Sara?"

"Gil, it's me," Catherine said.

He sighed and was about to ask if there was any news when she continued, "Sara's at my house, you can relax now."

Grissom exhaled and felt weak to his knees in relief. He sat down on a nearby chair and asked, "Is she all right? May I speak to her? God, why is she that far away? I'm coming to get her, I'll be there soon."

"No, Gil," Catherine said. "I'll take her home...I want to talk to her first. And yes, she's fine. Cold and soaking wet, but fine. She's in the shower at the moment. But you can talk to her when I bring her home. We won't be long, promise. Hang tight for a little while longer. I have to go, she just stepped out of the bathroom. Talk to you soon, Gil, bye."

The line disconnected, leaving Grissom to stare at his phone, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He sighed and placed the phone back on the cradle before contenting himself to sit back on the sofa and wait for his wife.

He had been waiting for forty-five minutes when Catherine's car pulled into the driveway. He saw Sara sitting in the passenger's seat. He exhaled loudly and pushed off of the couch, running for the front door. It was still raining, but he didn't care. He went and greeted the two women.

"Catherine, thank you," he said sincerely, before turning and fixing his eyes on Sara.

She was silent as she walked up to him. Grissom enveloped her in his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. Catherine, giving the couple their privacy and smiled at them before driving away.

"Sara, thank God," he whispered into her hair, running his fingers down her spine. "I've been so worried about you. Come, let's go inside and get you warm."

Still quiet, Sara followed her husband into their home. Once inside, he again pulled her to him and placed kisses in her hair. He was pleased when she wrapped her arms around his waist and held onto him tightly. He felt her body shudder and then heard a sob escape her lips.

"I'm sorry," she cried, "I'm so sorry."

Gil's heart broke as he heard the anguish in his wife's voice. He stroked her back soothingly and squeezed her tightly as he said, "No, dear, you have nothing to apologize for. It is I who should apologize. I admit, I've been far too suffocating on you, and I'm very sorry. And I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. That was uncalled for."

Sara shook her head and sobbed, "No, Gil, I need to apologize. All you've been is loving and helpful, and all I've done is snapped at you. You don't deserve this treatment, and I don't deserve you."

Grissom pulled back and stared into his wife's eyes as he whispered, "Sara, you are the best thing that has happened to me. It's I who doesn't deserve you. But we can work through this, together. For better or for worse, I'll be here. Remember?"

Sara smiled softly as Gil brushed a tear from her eye. She cradled his face in her hands and leaned in to plant a passionate kiss on his lips. He returned the kiss softly, but Sara deepened it.

"I love you," she whispered, "and I need you."

Grissom stroked her cheek and replied, "You have me. Forever."

He looked into his wife's eyes, surprised by the intense passion and love he found within their depths. She crushed her lips back to his and whispered between kisses, "No...I need you...now."

Grissom pulled back, startled. It was too soon. He began to object by saying, "Sara, the doctor..."

"Cleared me," she whispered. She then softly intoned, "Please, Gil. I need you. Please?"

And he couldn't refuse her. He brushed his lips along her mouth as the duo made their way to the bedroom, their hands exploring each other's bodies. Grissom was still hesitant to remove her clothes.

"Sara, are you sure?" he whispered against her mouth as her hands undid the buttons of his shirt.

She merely nodded as she successfully removed the article of clothing from his torso. She felt her husband's hands trail from her face and down her sides, coming to rest on her hips. He slipped his fingers under her shirt and maneuvered it upwards, exposing her torso. The skin was now yellowed with the fading bruises, but he still found her utterly and breathtakingly beautiful.

Sara caught him staring and flushed in embarrassment. She was about to pull away from him when he whispered, "God, Sara, you're so beautiful."

She froze and looked into his eyes. The blue orbs were dark with passion and love, and she believed his prior exclamation. She smiled and, after Gil tugged her shirt over her head, crushed her mouth to his. She stretched onto her tiptoes and wrapped her hand around his neck to deepen the kiss as she fumbled, one-handed, with the buttons of his jeans. They fell down his legs, and he stepped out of them.

"Are you still all right?" he asked breathlessly, caressing her soft skin.

She nodded and he moved his hands to her jeans. He popped the button and tenderly slid the denim down her long legs. He planted kisses all down the length of her body as he removed the pants, and, as he stood back up, trailed his hot mouth back up her body, from her legs to her stomach, up her chest. He paused there to remove her bra before making his way back to her lips.

"I love you," he sighed into her mouth.

"Mmm," Sara replied, "Love you, too."

In a whirl of caressing hands, they were both nude, and Grissom gently pulled Sara onto the bed. She lay on her back and closed her eyes as she felt her husband's lips explore every inch of her body, seeming to kiss every freckle that dotted her pale skin. She was startled, however, when his lips were suddenly at her ear, pleading, "Keep your eyes open, sweetheart."

She obliged. When she opened them, she was gazing into his deep blue eyes. She leaned up and captured his lips. His hands trailed down her body slowly as her hands scratched along his bare back.

"Still okay?" Grissom murmured into her mouth.

She nodded and very slowly, he parted her legs. He kept his eyes trained on Sara's dark orbs and looked for any sign of distress. Sara looked deeply into his eyes and nodded. He caressed her cheek as he pressed himself into her. She gasped and her eyes flew shut. Grissom stroked her cheek and inquired nervously, "Sara?"

She struggled to reopen her eyes, panting, "Give me a moment."

He held himself above her by his forearms as she adjusted to his size. He planted delicate kissed along her shoulders and collarbone as his hands stroked her waist and then the swell of her breasts before landing at her jaw. He caressed the soft skin and kissed her luscious lips.

Suddenly, he felt her hips shift, and gazed back into her eyes. She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Grissom slipped his arms behind her back and cradled her to his chest as he began to rock them both slowly. He watched the pleasure and ecstasy play across her features, and he stroked her cheek lovingly.

"You okay?" he asked softly, yet again.

She looked him in the eye and nodded.

Hands explored skin, and their hips rolled in a rhythm they were both familiar with. Grissom watched in awe as Sara's eyes darkened yet brightened as soft sighs and moans escaped her lips. She raked her nails along the skin of her husband's back as they became lost in the sensual throes of lovemaking. Sara felt her stomach coiling into knots as shudders began to ripple through her body, stars popping before her eyes

She wrapped her arms tightly around her husband's neck and moaned out his name, losing herself to the black oblivion that only Gil could take her to. Grissom hugged Sara to him as he felt her give herself to him completely. He watched the intense pleasure flit across her face, and he, too, succumbed to the passion, gasping out her name tenderly. Sara collapsed back onto the bed, her chest heaving, as Grissom struggled to support his weight on his forearms. He kissed her nose before resting his forehead on his wife's

Gil shifted to the side so as not to crush Sara's delicate form. Sara kept her arms wrapped around her husband as they both lay on their sides, facing each other, panting, glistening with sweat. Their hearts raced in unison as they tried to slow their breathing.

"Are you okay?" Grissom murmured, stroking his wife's face with his fingertips.

Sara smiled at him and nodded, saying, "Better than okay. I love you, Gil."

"As I love you, Sara," he whispered.

Sara wriggled herself closer to him, and Grissom opened his arms to her. She snuggled against his chest, content to listen to the thrumming of his heart beneath her ear whilst occasionally pressing her lips to the skin of his chest. Grissom absently played with her hair as he held her tightly to him. They were silent for a long time, and Gil thought she had surrendered to sleep when she whispered quietly, "Gil, are we okay?"

Grissom pulled back and looked into her deep brown orbs. He saw the uncertainty in them, and the regret for her prior behaviors, but he also saw the love shining brightly through. He cupped her jaw in his hand and kissed her softly on the lips. God, how he loved this woman. With his fingers still absently tracing patterns on her hip, he gripped her possessively tighter to his chest and rested his head on top of hers, sighing, "Yes, Sara. We'll be just fine."

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**A/N 2**: Well, there you go. The end. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope the romance between Grissom and Sara wasn't too terrible or awkward...it was my first attempt. I want to thank everybody who has supported me in this story. Everyone has been so kind! It was definitely a nice way to start out as a writer on this site. So, again, thank you all so much!


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